The Breath Before the Phrase
by nubianamy
Summary: Donutverse #9: Puck's heart is broken and he knows exactly what he needs - he just never thought he'd find it in a coffeehouse in Santa Fe. Puck/Adam Lambert. Dom/sub, discipline.
1. Chapter 1

_(Author's note: This started as a PWP prompt for some hot Puck/Adam action. I was, like, "Adam Lambert who?" So I listened to some of his music, read some interviews - and wrote 9,000 words without them even having kissed. It was then I knew Adam was going to impact the Donutverse in a big way. _

_This story takes place during Bending in the Archer's Hand, story #8 of the Glee Donutverse. If you haven't yet read any of the previous Donutverse stories, you have three options. One is to read the other stories first; links, summaries and suggested reading order can be found at http:/ gleeslash. livejournal. __. Two is to read the summary, found at__ http:/ archiveofourown. org/works/292318. Three is to blunder on bravely and deal with spoilers and confusing character references - and, trust me, there are lots and lots._

_This story contains, among other things, m/m sexual exploits, domestic discipline, Dominant/submissive dynamics, polyamory, schmoopy romance, unrealistic teenage dialogue, religious musings, singing, liberal use of the "f" word (Puck) and rather a lot more angst than I would have expected. No donuts, though there is a mention of cream-cheese brownies._

_Adam's album release, the 2009 American Music Awards and all the other current events referred to in this story were originally in November, but I had to move them to December to work for the Donutverse timeline, so thanks for extending some latitude there. Do note that Adam's an interesting person, but this is really just my own take on a possible incarnation of him, and no commentary on who he might be in real life. Also, Adam himself has stated he's not very Jewish, but it works for my purposes, so I went with that._

_If you've never fallen into Adam's rabbit hole, do take time during this story to watch the Youtube links and get to know his music; I hope you will be as astonished and mesmerized as I was at his talent. The music in this story, as is true for all my fiction, is completely inextricable from the story itself. I recommend you listen to the music as you read, if your brain works that way. You can find the Youtube playlist here: _http:/ www. youtube. com/playlist?list=PLD240CD7441F64E8C

_Thank you, as always, to songirl77 for inspiration, beta-reading and tireless support. I couldn't have written this story without the support of my cowriter knittycat99. The two Tess chapters were a collaborative effort between myself and Flynn Anthony, and I'm tickled to note that Adam is now leaking over into all her 'verses as well. Thanks also to deeniebee for early read-throughs, fantastic encouragement and the suggestion for Sarah's pet name for Burt._

_I am very proud to present this story to you. Please, enjoy. -amy)_

* * *

><p><em>Great music is personal and real.<br>__- Adam Lambert, PopEater, February 2011_

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE<strong>

The Santa Fe coffeehouse was pretty much exactly like all the other coffeehouses Puck had visited over the past week – same muted hum of the espresso machine, same smell of almonds and caramel syrup, same bored, black-clad crowd – except for the security detail outside. Puck raised his arms, bemused, as they patted him down his ribs and legs before giving him the green light. He glanced around with suspicion.

"Why the goon squad?" he asked Nicole quietly. She grinned and hoisted her bass over the table and settled it along the wall, safely out of the way of stepping feet.

"That would be because of Adam," she said.

"Adam," he echoed.

"Lambert," she confirmed, pointing at the other end of the coffee shop. A young man with black hair cut in an angular style was hunched over a steaming mug across from a slim, gorgeous boy with a goatee. He wore a black t-shirt and a heavy silver chain, and as Puck watched, he laughed at something the boy with the goatee said.

"Is he wearing _eyeliner?"_ Puck said, wrinkling his nose. "Dude."

"Don't you watch American Idol?" Nicole raised a pierced brow when he shrugged. "You might be the only one who doesn't, then. I thought everybody knew who he was by now. He was one of the final two contestants last year."

"I've been a little busy lately," Puck muttered, setting his own guitar case down and snapping open the latches. He'd been playing the Taylor every day, sometimes a couple times a day, for the past week, but he found himself wanting it even more, almost to the point of craving it.

It reminded him of another craving, one he'd had for longer than a week, and one that was not likely to be fulfilled in the near future. _So you might as well stuff those visions of being on your knees back into your head, where they belong,_ he told himself sternly. _It's just not fucking going to happen._

Having the Taylor in his hands made him feel safe, another familiar part of the universal coffeehouse environment. As he played a few harmonics to check the tuning, the dark-haired man – Adam – looked his way. He took in Puck's mohawk, his leather jacket, the ripped jeans and boots, his guitar, his haunted eyes, all in one glance. His lips tipped up in a surprisingly aware and understanding smile.

Puck didn't smile back, but he thought he might consider it. He'd had precious few reasons to smile over the past few days. His visit was nearly over; on Sunday it would be time for him to head back to Ohio. But not to go home. No, home was a concept that didn't exist for him anymore, and wouldn't likely have again for a long while. He clutched the neck of his guitar and closed his eyes as he was rocked by an unexpected blast of pain. It had been so long since he _hadn't_ hurt, it almost felt like the default setting, now, but sometimes it just got unbearable.

"How about some coffee?" Nicole suggested, stroking the back of his neck with one hand. He felt himself tense, then forced his shoulders to relax. His instinct had said _wrong hands, _but that was silly, wasn't it? Nicole was his lover as much as… as much as…

But _he_ wasn't Puck's, anymore.

"Tea, please," he said dully. His fingers found the strings and picked a default pattern, without him thinking about it. _Freight train, freight train, goin' so fast…_ He'd learned that when he was eight, when his brother still lived at home, when his father was still wreaking havoc in his life. When he still had a mother.

Then he realized he'd shifted to picking a different pattern on the strings, Asus2, A, D, repeating endlessly… he hummed Kurt's melody, feeling the ache penetrate his skin and set up residence in his gut. It wasn't possible for him to play the other melody, the one that fit alongside it, that formed the backbone, the structure around which the suspended chords made a perfect fit. That melody had been relegated to his dreams, from which he always woke crying. He was pretty sure he wouldn't ever play it again.

"Play it," said the boy with the goatee at the table with Adam, echoing Puck's thoughts, and he looked up. Adam was declining politely, but he wasn't trying very hard, and eventually he gave in, laughing.

"Okay, okay!" he said. "I'll play it. World premiere. No cameras, right?"

The words set off a flurry of action around Puck, and he realized at least a quarter of the patrons in the coffeehouse must be part of the goon squad, too, because they were checking the other three-quarters of the patrons for phones and cameras. "All clear," said a woman with a nose ring and pink frizzy hair.

"Fine. You're such a bitch," he added to the boy with the goatee who hung on Adam's arm like he owned him, and kissed his cheek with a smirk.

The boy scanned the tables. "Is Tommy going to play it, or do I need to scrape up an accompanist from somewhere?"

Adam shook his head. "Tommy's at the hotel with a headache."

The boy cast his eyes around the coffeehouse and landed on Puck. "How about him?" he said, jerking a thumb at him.

Adam's gaze met Puck's once more, and this time when he smiled, Puck nodded back at him. "You read tablature?" Adam asked, his voice mild.

"Yeah," Puck replied cautiously. He wasn't sure he was up for anything much beyond coffee tonight. Knowing he was going to have to get back on the road on Sunday for the 23 hour drive was making him antsy.

Adam sorted through the papers in his satchel and came up with a sheaf of tablature. "I've got a request," he said, with a conspiratorial smile at Puck, and held out the papers. "Drake isn't going to leave me alone until I play him this song. Technically I'm not supposed to play it live until December 18th, but we've only got a few more days." He tipped his head at Puck. "_You_ won't tell, will you?"

"Dude, I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Puck said, leafing through the tab, "but I can play whatever you want me to play. What's the tempo?"

Adam broke into a couple bars of song, and the tables around them fell silent, watching and listening. His voice was rich and vibrant. _He'd give Mr. Schue a run for his money,_ Puck thought, and laid the music on the table in front of him, strumming tentatively at first, then with more confidence.

"That's it," Adam nodded, smiling in admiration. Drake came over and sat across from them, clearly not liking the attention Adam was paying to Puck, but not really having a leg to stand on, since they were just _singing,_ for fuck's sake. Puck gave him a smirk and considered rubbing up against Adam in a totally inappropriate way, just to make Drake twitch.

Then Adam started to sing, and Puck just shut the hell up and _listened._

_http:/ www. youtube. com/watch?v=JKXyAJG5Wbo _

_Hey, slow it down  
><em>_Whataya want from me  
><em>_Yeah, I'm afraid  
><em>_Whataya want from me_

_There might have been a time  
><em>_When I would give myself away  
><em>_Once upon a time  
><em>_I didn't give a damn  
><em>_But now here we are  
><em>_So whataya want from me  
><em>_Whataya want from me_

_Just don't give up  
><em>_I'm working it out  
><em>_Please don't give in  
><em>_I won't let you down  
><em>_It messed me up, need a second to breathe  
><em>_Just keep coming around  
><em>_Hey, whataya want from me  
><em>_Whataya want from me_

Adam's voice was liquid, with plenty of expression and an impressive range. The song was simple, but Puck felt the lyrics resonate inside. When he began the second verse, it was like Adam was holding up a mirror to the way things had been, with Kurt and… other people… When he compared it to the way things looked now, it made his chest tight.

_Yeah, it's plain to see  
><em>_That baby you're beautiful  
><em>_And there's nothing wrong with you  
><em>_It's me, I'm a freak  
><em>_Yeah, thanks for lovin' me  
><em>_Cause you're doing it perfectly_

_There might have been a time  
><em>_When I would let you slip away  
><em>_I wouldn't even try but I think  
><em>_You could save my life_

He ached, all the time – but this was like the worst kind of torture, Adam's strong voice stripping off the barriers he'd erected, and here he was, in a fucking Santa Fe coffeehouse, playing guitar for some pop star, and feeling the tears lurking behind the thin veneer of self-control he had left.

_Just don't give up  
><em>_I'm workin' it out  
><em>_Please don't give in  
><em>_I won't let you down –_

Adam stopped singing and put a concerned hand on Puck's shoulder. "Are you okay, kid?" he said, softly, and that was more than Puck could handle. He cradled his Taylor close to his chest and made a dash for the door, pushing past Nicole and the startled security, out into the cool December desert night. It was chilly enough that there weren't many people outside, other than Adam's goons, so Puck could have his freak-out in private.

It was short-lived privacy. Puck felt a touch, and when he tried to brush it off, the soft voice was back, disarming him: "Hey, kid, I'm sorry, whatever it was – I didn't mean to open old wounds or whatever."

"No," Puck said, with a bitter chuckle; "believe me, they're pretty new wounds. It's okay. I'm – I didn't know it was gonna affect me like that. Those lyrics… fuck, man."

He heard the smile in Adam's voice. "Hey, that's good, though. Music should affect you, touch you, or why bother?" He hesitated. "Was that your girlfriend inside? You want me to get her for you?"

"Puck." The deep voice, as always, made his heart stand still just for a moment, and he stiffened, straightening his back and coming to attention. Adam took this in, and he stepped back a few paces, watching the big man approach. Alex couldn't avoid drawing attention if he tried, with his back-length red curls and his barrel chest.

"Sir," Puck whispered.

"Nicole said you were upset," he said, but did not approach. "Do you need to go home?"

"No, sir, thank you," he said, flickering eyes to Adam, whose face was registering understanding on a different level than Puck had expected. Puck knew he had every right to feel anxious about having a stranger witness this, but all he felt was calm and protected in Alex's presence.

Alex regarded Adam with impassive judgment. "He's been through a lot lately," he said, and Adam nodded slowly.

"I think – I can be of help," he said, and Puck jerked his eyes up to the dark-haired man's, which were suddenly topaz and glittering in the light of the street. "If it's desired."

"That's up to Puck," Alex said, dismissively. "He's a grown boy. He can make his own decisions about that."

_But I can't, not always,_ Puck thought desperately, even as he glowed with the praise from his lover. No one else had ever treated him so much like a _man_ as Alex had. He curled himself more tightly around his guitar and wiped his eyes on the side of his hand.

"He needs – a firm hand," Alex added, and Adam hummed understanding, crossing his arms across his chest. He suddenly reminded Puck strikingly of Kurt, and he felt the ache return, doubled. He heard himself make a quiet noise.

"I think we can start with just talking," Adam suggested, and he put a hand on Puck's arm, tugging him back toward the coffeehouse. "But I appreciate the... insight, and also knowing he's got his freedom to make decisions for himself."

"He's always had that capability." Alex did approach now, and put a big, warm hand on the small of Puck's back. Puck felt the curtain of submission overtake him, and he closed his eyes, wondering vaguely if this was a good idea, but trusting Alex to take care of him.

"You want this?" Alex asked in a low voice, against Puck's head. It was just loud enough for Puck to hear, and it made him shiver.

"I –" Puck felt his brow contract, and his gaze was drawn down the neck of his guitar to where Adam stood, watching him. His face was enigmatic, but he wasn't looking away.

"I can take you home now," Alex went on, just a murmur in his ear. "You know I'll take care of you. But – you get to choose, freely, and no matter what you pick, we will all love you just the same."

_He's not Kurt,_ he made himself think. _No matter how much he reminds you of him, he's not him. You'll see him in three days. You don't even know for sure if Kurt – that he doesn't – he might still – _He took a shuddering breath. Adam's hand was warm on his arm.

"I want to stay," he said, and his voice was small and plaintive, and not at all like his.

Alex's hand swept up to his neck and, briefly, tightened there. "You will call me, tonight, and let me know where you are."

"Yes sir," Puck said quickly.

"And I'll expect to see you tomorrow, if you don't end up staying with us, before you drive home." Lips pressed to his forehead, and Alex patted his bottom, once. Again, the thought passed through his mind that he should have been mortified, but Adam just smiled faintly and nodded at Alex.

"Trust me, this is about the safest place in the country right now," Adam said, and he sounded so amused and wry and _normal_ that Puck felt at ease. "After some of the homophobic threats people have made against me, my security's on alert, and they'll be watching me _and_ everyone else who comes through here."

Puck wanted to say he understood, that it was all right, that he felt safe, but the truth was he _wasn't_ at all sure it was all right. It wasn't Adam – not precisely. It was _him,_ Puck himself, that wasn't all right. _And any idiot who wants me,_ he thought. _Whatever they want – they deserve what they get._

"I could use a fucking drink," he muttered, and Adam chuckled, his hand on Puck's arm guiding him without seeming to as they walked together back to the warmth of the coffee shop.

"How about something sweet?" Adam suggested. Puck's mouth twitched into something approximating a smile, and he looked sideways at the dark-haired man. Adam's lips parted and he tilted his head at the unspoken innuendo, but again, he didn't look away. Puck liked that he didn't.

"I'm a little… picky… about the things I put into my body," Puck said at last. "Most of them I cook or bake myself."

Adam nodded and held open the door for Puck, swinging it wide to make room for his guitar. "I got that… but you can't depend on yourself all the time. Sometimes, you have to trust someone else to take care of you."

Stepping through the door, Puck had to step in close to fit as others were on their way out, and his chest brushed Adam's. He saw the boy with the goatee, Drake, give an angry start, at the same time that someone from the goon squad made a move toward them, but Adam held out a hand that seemed to be sufficient to quell both his security _and_ the jealous… lover?

"Your pretty boy's not happy with this," Puck observed, nodding at Drake. He paused in the doorway, facing Adam, tilting his head up to meet his astonishing blue eyes.

Adam laughed. "Drake's not my keeper. He'll deal. And you're _much_ prettier than he is. What about your girlfriend? She's watching you like a hawk."

"Just being Alex's eyes when he's not here," Puck shrugged. "They all – they kind of come as a set, Alex and Nicole."

"And you? You're part of the set?" Adam looked curious, but Puck shook his head.

"I've got – my own set. Back home. I'm just visiting."

They took a seat across a tiny table in the back. It was funny how Adam just walking through the place cleared a space for them to be, everyone else making room for him, as though he had an invisible circle of privacy around him. Puck was glad to be the only one allowed inside, as Drake seemed to have given up, and everyone else in the coffee house looked a little awed to even be across the room from him. Adam's curiosity had increased, though, and it was all trained on Puck.

"Your own set of what?" he said. Puck hesitated for only a moment before pulling out his phone and bringing up his favorite photo of Kurt and Finn, sleeping curled up together in Finn's guest room bed, looking very much the picture of two people in love. Adam made a cooing noise when he saw it, and he put a hand to his mouth in a gesture that was _so Kurt_ that Puck felt his chin wobble. He took a deep breath and didn't look at the picture.

"My God, they're beautiful," Adam whispered, touching Finn, then Kurt, and finally passed the phone back to Puck. Their hands brushed, and Puck took his time ending the contact.

"Yeah, well… we'll see if they still want to see me at all when I get back into town. Finn, he made it pretty clear we were through. And Kurt… "

"You love them." Adam wasn't asking. "That can fill in a lot of holes, even when you've made the holes yourself. I've been there… though it's been a while."

"Drake…?" Puck gestured at him, now sitting mere inches from a tall boy and trading smiles. Adam shook his head and glanced at his lap.

"No, I'm single. Things with Drake were too hectic; the press had a field day when we were together, and I don't want to put anyone else through that. Speaking of press…" Adam grimaced. "You should be prepared. I hope we've cleared out this place pretty well, but there's always the possibility of photos getting leaked, or something."

Puck imagined what Kurt would probably say if he knew he was having coffee with a pop star from American Idol, and he grinned. "Hey, I don't fucking care what people say about me. They can think what they want, because they're probably wrong."

"A complex man," Adam said, grinning back. "I appreciate that. And a brave man. Also a worthwhile attribute."

"Brave, I don't know." Puck thought this over while Adam ordered a double mocha latte. He shook his head when Adam offered him one.

"Come on," he wheedled, taking Puck's hand across the table. "You said you wanted a drink. The drug of choice here? Caffeine. Everybody's doing it."

"Darjeeling," Puck said to the waitress, giving in, and his hand tingled when Adam squeezed it. "Dude - that's not _exactly_ what I had in mind when I said a drink."

Adam coughed delicately and let his eyes wander around the coffee house. "I haven't been forward enough to ask your _exact_ age," he said, "and honestly? It's probably better I don't know. But I'm _certain_ you're not twenty-one."

"My ID says I am," Puck contested, and Adam dissolved into fucking adorable giggles.

"Does your ID also include the name 'Puck?'" he countered. "Because that? Super cute to be named after a famous fairy."

"It's part of my last name," Puck explained. "My real first name is…" He hesitated, thinking of the last time he'd heard the name, in bed with Kurt, the way he'd moaned it aloud, repeating it over and over… "Noah. I'm Noah."

"Mmmmm," Adam approved. "A good Jewish name." He ran a thumb over Puck's, tracing the muscles in his hand, the calluses on the pads of his fingers. "You're quite a guitarist, Noah."

They let go when the waitress brought their drinks, Puck thanking her for the offered cream, and appreciating the presspot. "You've got to add the cream first," he explained, pouring it into his cup, letting his tea steep.

"You weren't kidding about being a food snob." Adam pointed at the glass pastry case across the room. "Are you willing to let me get you a scone or something to go with that?"

"I'm not hungry," he said, but he caught Adam's expression, sensual lips pressed together in amusement, dark-lined eyes watching him, and he felt compelled to add, "for a scone. Maybe one of those cream cheese brownies."

"Good man," Adam approved. "I was hoping to feed you little pieces with my fingers across the table, just to piss Drake off."

"Uh," Puck blinked, and Adam lost it again, pressing a hand to his mouth to cover the giggles. Puck gave himself a stern reminder – _not Kurt_ – and grabbed Adam's hand again. "If you want to."

Adam looked a little surprised, but he recovered quickly, sipping his mocha with his free hand. "Oh, sweetheart, there's lots I _want_ to."

Puck stiffened and closed his eyes, flinching away involuntarily. When he opened them again, Adam was watching him anxiously, hands steepled in front of his mouth. "Too much?" he guessed.

"No – just the 'sweetheart,'" Puck said, through gritted teeth. "I can't – only –" _Only Kurt gets to call me that._

"Of course," he soothed. "It's me. I'm a little familiar with people. I'll try again." He watched while Puck poured his tea, properly steeped for three minutes, with shaking hands. "Why don't you play me something on that guitar."

"Sure," Puck agreed, feeling calmer already as he touched the Taylor's neck. Adam's smiling response made him calmer still, and he strummed a few chords. "What do you want to hear?"

"Hey, I don't know. Do you sing?" Puck nodded, and Adam smiled bigger. "Fabulous. Well… you heard what I've got. I can't play guitar or anything worth a damn, so you're one up on me."

"Dude, you're fucking awesome," Puck protested. "I don't think it's really a competition."

"_Dude,"_ Adam mocked, and Puck laughed, making Adam's eyes go soft. "I like that laugh. All right, just play me something amazing, then. Don't worry about what."

Puck ran his hand over his mohawk and, after a thought, launched into one of his favorite Steve Howe solo guitar pieces, Mood for a Day. It was technically challenging, but he'd practiced it a million times, and it was one of the best pieces for showing off his classical technique.

http:/ www. youtube. com/watch?v=FP7J8ONfIfs

He enjoyed seeing Adam's expression go from polite to surprised, and then, even better, a little hungry. _Yeah,_ he thought with satisfaction. _I can make guys cream their pants, too. _The conversations around them had gone silent, and they were all listening to Puck play as attentively as though he'd been a performer at an open mic.

He saw Nicole on the other side of the room, watching him, and it made him relax a little more when she caught his eye and pointed at Adam and mouthed the word _hot!_ He felt his face heat up, but he nodded in return, because, eyeliner notwithstanding, there was no fucking doubt about _that._

When he was done, Adam started clapping, and a couple other people around them clapped, too. Puck was flushed with success and the heat of the moment, and he sipped his tea before suggesting, "Maybe I should get that brownie now."

Adam laughed and nibbled at his lip. "If _that's _where you are, we should get out of here before we do something in public we'll regret." He put his hand in his pocket momentarily, then reached for Puck's hand across the table, shaking it, and when he let go, there was a piece of paper there.

"Just in case I get followed by the press," Adam whispered. "I'll go now. You come in about ten minutes. And bring the guitar – I still want to hear you sing."

Puck nodded, watching him as he gulped back the rest of his mocha and pushed his chair out. He moved with an easy grace, but still seemed surprisingly ordinary. _I met this guy at the coffee shop,_ he imagined saying. _His name was Adam. He was pretty hot. He reminded me of you, baby._

Adam wasn't even all the way out the door before Puck was pressing a hand to his mouth, the tears already streaming down his face. Nicole was there, right behind him, her slender arms wrapping around his neck as she drew him into a hug. "Jesus," she sighed. "Did he brush you off? I thought that song was inspired. He doesn't know what he's missing."

"No, it's not that." Puck rubbed his face on his arm in frustration. "I'm – it's Kurt, Nicole. I just miss him so fucking much."

She watched him unhappily. "You know, it's kind of bad form to sleep with someone and pretend he's someone else."

"Who said I was planning to sleep with him?" he snapped, glaring ferociously at the cup of tea.

"Oh, Puck, you didn't _have_ to," she said. "I got it. I know how you're feeling – you just better be really clear with yourself, and him, why you're doing it."

Puck found some little crumbs of biscotti on the table, left over from Adam's mocha. He pulverized them with the side of his thumb. "Why _am_ I doing it?"

"Well, for one thing, _hot._" She grinned at him. "Let's not pretend that's not a big part of it, okay? The rest – well. Only you know for sure, but I can guess. He reminds you of Kurt. He's got something you want. He's famous."

"I don't care about _that,"_ he objected.

"The rest, though." She shrugged. "Do you need more than that?"

He put his head on the table, cradling his guitar. "Fuck me," he moaned. "I just feel like a total – I mean, _why_ would I go looking for _another_ guy when I have _you _and _Alex_ and _Daph_ –"

"Because attraction doesn't work that way," she said patiently. "You want what you want. It doesn't mean you stop wanting the other things. And it _doesn't _mean anything bad about you, okay?" She kicked him under the table. "Stop judging yourself by society's fucked up moral standards. You know better than that. Just honor your desires. Right?"

"Right – okay, okay!" He shielded himself from further kicks, but he was smiling now. "You know best."

"Fucking right I do. Well, I guess it's a moot point, since he took off, but – "

"Um," he said, holding up the paper. When he unfolded it, it turned out to be directions to his hotel, and a phone number.

Nicole's eyes widened, and she glanced around the coffee house. "Do _not_ let anybody else have that," she whispered. "I bet some rabid fans would give various body parts for it."

"Whatever," he said. "He's just a guy. Okay, yeah, he's hot." He found himself standing, feeling more himself than he had in days. "I guess – I want this. Whatever _this_ is."

"Don't forget to call," she reminded him, kissing him thoroughly. "I can't be held responsible for what Alex might do to you if you forget."

* * *

><p><em>Your skin is burning at the sight of me<br>__Your mask can't hide what you're thinking  
><em>_Don't ask, don't tell  
><em>_Just take what you need  
><em>_I'm an open book  
><em>_So go on and take a look_

_- Adam Lambert, "Master Plan"_


	2. Chapter 2

_I've had my heart broken. I've chased after people and had it not work out. Throughout my entire 20s, I've wanted to be in love. That's what I want. I think everybody deserves that. And I've only been in love once. So I'm still looking._

_- Adam Lambert, ABC 20/20, June 2009_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER TWO<p>

It took far longer for Puck to make it to the Hotel Eldorado than it probably should have. Only part of it was due to Puck's reticence.

First, he stopped at the chain bookstore and asked the guy at the music counter for a copy Adam Lambert's album. He was startled to have the guy toss a bored gesture at a big display sign announcing the release date – in three days – complete with a huge, blow-up picture of Adam in makeup, jewelry and purple incandescent lighting. He stared at the picture, perplexed, for so long that the guy asked him, "You like this stuff?"

"What… stuff?" he asked, trying to sound dangerous.

"Just – the glam rock business. It's a little over the top, isn't it?"

"Dude," Puck grinned. "You look old enough to remember the 80s. Hair bands? He's just David Bowie all over again. Rock's been kind of boring since then. I think we're about due for some _over the top."_

The guy looked uncomfortable. "He's just – kind of – sparkly."

"More sparkly than Edward the vampire," Puck agreed. "And apparently, chicks dig that. Why the fuck not?"

Then he stopped at the drugstore and picked up a few key items, things he hadn't used with Kurt or… or Finn, but that they'd agreed they would use with _other_ people. Not that had was _absolutely_ planning to stick his dick in anything other than his own hand, or have any other dicks stuck anywhere, but…

Then he sat in the hotel parking lot for a little while, breathing, closing his eyes, trying to feel anything other than like a great big jerk. The message from his heart was: _you're cheating on your boyfriend, _but the language in his head was: _you're a fucking slut – and not even an ethical one. _

Finally he took his phone out of his pocket, and, slowly, he typed out a text.

_Baby, I miss you so much._

It was the first direct communication he'd had with Kurt since he left Lima a week ago. It was only two hours later there, and it was a Friday, so the chances were pretty good that Kurt would be awake and would get the text. It would be easier if he could just call him, but he had the feeling that hearing Kurt cry on the phone would leave him incapable of driving, or anything else that required higher brain function.

Sure enough, it was only a few moments after he texted that he got a response, and it hit him like a crumbling brick wall:

_Noah, sweetheart, where are you? We've been going crazy with worry. I miss you so much too. You didn't have to leave. I love you, sweetheart._

He heard every word, in Kurt's voice, in his head, and didn't even have to read between the lines to notice that "we" were worried but "I" missed and loved him. Finn either wasn't there or he wasn't responding. It shouldn't have been a surprise, but it still hurt way too fucking much.

_I did have to,_ he replied when he had regained enough control to read the screen. _I told sarah I would be fine._ _pls don't call. be back in town soon._

_Okay,_ he read instantly, and immediately felt a huge weight lift off him. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Then: _Can't you at least tell me where you are right now? I just want to know._

He hesitated, then typed, _in santa fe visiting A,N and D. _Before he could get a reply to that, he sent: _I met a guy tonight. he kind of reminds me of you._

The pause was longer this time, and he chewed his finger, waiting.

Finally, it came: _Sweetheart, are you being safe?_

_Yes,_ he said, as truthfully as he knew how. He blew his nose on a paper napkin.

He felt a leaping in his heart at the next words: _Am I still your baby?_

_Always,_ he promised, fervently hoping Kurt could believe him, in the face of his abandonment. He added, _be back in ohio before christmas._

Puck didn't promise to cook dinner for everybody, though he wanted to. He didn't promise to see Kurt, though he needed to. He didn't promise anything he couldn't do. He wasn't sure if that would be enough, but Kurt's last text gave him hope:

_Just come home. I'll be waiting for you._

He typed the number from the paper Adam had given him into his phone, and pressed send, listening to the ring with equal amounts of anticipation and dread.

"It's me," said the voice. "It's weird to get a call - nobody has this number."

"I bet," Puck said, his voice low.

"Before you come up here, just tell me something." Adam sounded – not nervous, no, but _apprehensive,_ kind of, as though he were questioning his own judgment.

"What?"

"You're seventeen, right?"

_Not until summer,_ Puck wanted to say, but instead he said, "Yeah, of course."

Adam sighed. "Hell, kid. I don't know. My bassist has been trying to talk me out of inviting you up for the last half hour."

"I'm – look, I'm taking off back to Ohio on Sunday," Puck said. "You'll never see me again. I don't fucking care who you are – I just think – I just want to see what happens, okay?"

"You know, I love that you don't know who I am," Adam said, and Puck could hear the grin over the phone. "You've got no expectations."

"Not exactly," he agreed. "Well, except... you do like guys, right?"

That made Adam laugh, and Puck felt himself flush at the sound. "Yeah," Adam said. "I like _you._ You're cute."

"You, uh, said." He glanced at the box of condoms, then opened it, tearing off a strip and shoving them in the pocket of his jeans. "You saw Alex. The guy with the red hair."

"I don't think I could have _not_ seen him. What is he, 6'5"?"

"Something like that." Puck hesitated on the next words. "He's kind of… well, he's like my…"

"I get it, kid," Adam said, sounding amused. "I might get it better than you do."

_Maybe you do,_ Puck thought, remembering how Adam hadn't seemed at all surprised by his interaction with Alex. He tried again: "But he's not, really. My, uh, Finn – at home, he's, like, in charge. But… he told me… he was done with me." The last was in a whisper. He could barely hold that memory in his head.

"Ouch," Adam said. "You're an open box?"

"A what?"

"A bottom without a Top."

Puck tried to laugh, but it came out sounding more like a sob. "Fuck," he swore, scrubbing at his face. "Maybe… maybe I shouldn't come up. This hurts too fucking much."

"Kid," Adam said, very distinctly, "if you want to play _that _way, you can bet you're going to hurt a _lot_ more before we're done."

Puck's breath stopped for a moment, and he felt a sudden steaming rush of _need,_ bigger than he ever would have expected. "Oh," he said.

"So what's it going to be? Are we going to cuddle naked by the fire and sing songs all night? Or are you looking for something a little more… focused… than that? I'm fine either way, but it'd be nice to know which one you want."

"You've got a fireplace up there?" Puck couldn't help but ask.

"_Noah…" _ The Voice was unmistakable, and it made him flinch. "Are you going to listen to me?"

"Yes sir," he whispered.

"Hmmm. As much as you're an open box, I get that you're still attached to someone… and I doubt your redhead would appreciate you calling _me_ that. How about we stick with Adam?"

"Okay…" Puck said. "Adam."

He heard a long sigh. "All right, kid. I don't know if I'm going to regret this, but… I'm in room 614. I'll have someone waiting for you in the hallway upstairs."

The call disconnected, and Puck realized he was not only dizzy and shaking, he was completely, achingly hard. He thought, _I wonder if he's going to –_ and realized, if he completed that thought, he might come right there. Instead, he got out of his truck, picked up his guitar and walked, as best he could, into the lobby of the hotel.

"Can I help you?" asked the concierge.

"Room 614, please," he said. She hesitated, and he added, "He said he'd have someone upstairs to meet me."

She blinked, but said, "Of course – let me show you to the elevator." She spoke quietly into a walkie-talkie, and Puck followed.

In the battle of anticipation vs. dread, anticipation won. _I can't leave without finding out what might happen next,_ he thought, and licked his lips as the elevator doors closed.

* * *

><p><em>Going down the rabbit hole<br>__Get away from all we know  
><em>_Come on, follow  
><em>_Come on and follow me_

_- Adam Lambert, "Down the Rabbit Hole"_


	3. Chapter 3

_The thing about kissing somebody is that you know if the person wants to be kissed or not. I would never kiss anybody who didn't want to be kissed. The people I kiss are the people who give me that eye the entire night. I would never force myself on anybody.  
><em>_- Adam Lambert, Showbiz Spy, August 2010_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER THREE<p>

The woman who met him on the sixth floor was small and unassuming, but Puck guessed she was a badass by the way she didn't even hesitate to pat him down all over, even the really intimate parts. He supposed he should be embarrassed by her feeling his obvious arousal, but she didn't react.

"Mr. Lambert is waiting inside," she said, indicating the door marked 614. "Do you need anything?"

"Uh," he said, trying to think of an awesome smart-ass remark, but apparently all the blood from his brain was busy elsewhere. "I'm good," he finally settled on.

She nodded and waited while he stood in front of the door, trying to get up his courage. After a minute or two, she cleared her throat.

"Do you want me to get the door _for _you?" she asked, clearly irritated. He shuffled his feet and switched his guitar case into his other hand.

"I'm… I'm just thinking," he muttered.

She sighed and crossed her arms. "You've got nothing to worry about from Adam. He's a nice guy – seriously. It's not an act."

_Really. How much of what I've seen already isn't an act?_ He just nodded and tried to be patient with himself, and with Adam, and this whole fucking situation. Finally he turned the knob and, with a deep breath, stepped inside.

"Holy shit," he blurted, first thing. "There really _is_ a fireplace up here."

"I know, right?" Adam grinned. "I stay in so many crap hotels, it's nice sometimes to find… something special." He raised one dark eyebrow and held out a hand. When Puck took it, the other eyebrow went up. "I was really reaching for your guitar," he said softly. "But... I'll take your hand."

He led Puck into the room and gestured for him to set his guitar down by the balcony. Puck took a glance out the glass door; the view from the 6th floor was pretty, but not spectacular. The fireplace, on the other hand, was an adobe wood-burning setup, two logs already crackling away inside.

"I like the fireplace so much, I keep using up all the wood," Adam said, popping open a can of something fizzy. "It's good it's cold out. Well, colder than Hollywood, anyway."

"What are you doing in Santa Fe?" Puck asked, taking off his jacket and draping it over the chair. He was glad for the fireplace – the room was chilly.

"My drummer has family here. We're getting ready to do the American Music Awards in a few days, and our performance schedule after that is just crazy, so this was going to be the last chance before the new year for him to get away." He shrugged, a simple movement with a complex meaning. "Lucky me."

Puck stared at the inside of Adam's wrist, where a stylized eye and a figure 8 were drawn. He reached out to touch them before he realized he was doing it, but Adam just smiled and stepped in closer to show Puck the tattoos. "This is the Eye of Horus," he said. "It's a magical symbol of protection."

"This one. Infinity." Puck traced the figure 8, in a neverending pattern, and was gratified to see Adam shiver.

"Yeah… infinite expression, infinite love, connection to the Universe." He put his hand on Puck's, stilling his finger. "It's what I'm trying to convey with my music, all the time. Money, fame, sex – it doesn't mean anything without love."

"Love - is that what you're looking for here?" Puck's voice was low. "Cause I'm not sure I'm up for that, man."

"You're up for it," Adam said. "Trust me. You're up for it if I say you are."

Now it was Puck's turn to shiver, leaning into Adam's black-clad form, feeling the heat of his chest, the rise and fall of his breath. "I left… love… in Ohio, to come here. For this?"

"Apparently," Adam said. "Again – for whatever reason – lucky me." He tipped Puck's face up, gently, insistently. "Love takes many forms," he whispered into Puck's open mouth, and placed warm, soft lips on his.

It _began_ gently, anyway – until Puck made a whine in the back of his throat and thrust his tongue into Adam's mouth. Adam responded with equal heat, but after several seconds of the tension building, Puck was the one to break away, staring up at Adam with panting, desperate confusion.

"Okay," Adam said, his voice hoarse, "okay, don't worry, kid. You're gonna be fine." He tried to pull Puck back against his chest, but Puck resisted, taking a step away. Adam nodded, slowly, and held up his hands.

"Can you believe I'm not interested in pushing you?" he said softly. "If you don't know what you want, it's better we don't. So – take your time."

It was probably the best thing he could have said. It was as though Adam had rewound the tape, back to when he'd walked in – a do-over, of sorts. In fact, if Puck couldn't still taste Adam's mouth on his, bubbly and clean, like club soda, he might have thought he'd dreamed their kiss. _First kiss… but hopefully not our last,_ Puck found himself thinking, and realized that whatever else he was feeling, he _didn't _want to take his time. He stepped back into Adam's startled embrace.

This time he put his hands on Adam, allowing himself to trace the unfamiliar contours of Adam's shoulders, to curve around to his broad back, to feel the clipped hair of his stylized cut, which – Puck realized with a start – was really a long mohawk. He plunged his fingers into the silky hair and found himself comparing it to Kurt's (_there was really no comparison,_ he decided, but no wonder when he considered all the time and product Kurt spent on his), and Adam chuckled his approval as Puck pulled him back down into another kiss.

"Better," Adam said, his breath feather-light, and ran his hands under Puck's t-shirt. Obediently, Puck raised his arms over his head and let Adam strip it off. He trailed fingers along Puck's abs, making approving noises. "My goodness; somebody's been working out."

"Glad you like," Puck said, and he _was_ glad, wanted more than he could explain to get approval from this glamorous man with the compelling eyes. He hesitantly tugged at Adam's black shirt, but Adam moved his hand away, smiling.

"I'm going to stay like this for a while," he said. His musical voice was warm and calm, and Puck felt comforted by his confidence. He dropped onto to the couch, reclining on his side, propped up on one elbow. "You're delicious. I just want to enjoy you."

Puck was, as always, happy to be enjoyed, and he grinned at Adam, striking his most appealing pose. "How old are you?" he wanted to know.

"Not so old," Adam said, tipping his head and rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "I had twenty-seven candles on my cake this January."

"No big," Puck shrugged. He'd had cougars more than twice his age, and Alex was thirty-seven this year.

"And I won't make you tell me the truth about how old _you_ are, either," he said. "But I'd prefer you not lie to me about anything else. Understood?"

"Yes… Adam," he said, abashed. He thought he pulled off college-age pretty convincingly, but apparently Adam had seen right through that façade. "Sorry," he added.

Adam's smile was like a reward, and Puck felt better. "Honey, you're just too much. You'd better be careful who you put that sweet trust in. You could get seriously hurt if you go handing it out to just anybody."

"Been there, done that," he muttered, glancing down. "You think… I shouldn't trust you?"

"Maybe," Adam allowed. "Though your redhead seemed to think I was trustworthy."

Puck nodded. He always felt safe trusting Alex. "That's good enough for me, I think. He's kind of psychic."

"Really? Hmmm." Adam's expressive eyebrows did a dance on his forehead. "Well, as intriguing as _he_ is, I think I want to hear about your guy at home."

"Kurt?" It was strange to speak his name, in the presence of this man - who, while he certainly wasn't just like him, was possessed of enough similarities to make memories of Kurt sharp and sweet, like a slice of key lime pie.

Adam's mouth twisted. "Yeah, him. Why aren't you there, if he's so great?"

"You seriously don't need to hear _that_ whole story," Puck said. "I fucked up; I skipped town; now I'm going home to try to fix it. Good enough?"

Ice blue eyes flashed from Puck's bare chest to the jeans he still wore. "Well… that depends on what you're looking for here. Do you expect me to screw the guilt out of you, or am I pulling out other tools?"

Puck suddenly felt a chill down his spine, and he shuddered. "Uh…"

"Seriously," Adam said, entirely calm. He gestured expressively with his hand; Puck watched the tattoos on his wrist dance. "You want any kind of a good time tonight, and the guilt _has_ to go. It's really not helping you any, and it's just going to piss me off."

"Look, I've been _trying_," Puck protested, throwing out his hands. "What do you want from me?"

"That's_ my_ line," Adam said, shaking his head. "But as long as you're asking… would you come here?" He beckoned, rolling to a sitting position, and patted the cushion next to him. Puck moved slowly, reluctantly. "Come on – I'm not going to hurt you."

_Why do I have trouble believing that?_ Puck thought, and sighed, sinking onto the couch. Adam's warm hand hovered over the back of his neck, to his spine, and finally settled on the small of his back. He gasped at the touch, feeling it echo inside him, surprised at how _right_ it felt.

"You know what you need, Noah," Adam said.

"No," he said miserably. "I _don't. _That's the worst part. All the people who've helped me figure those things out are in _Ohio,_ and I thought I could get it from Alex but _he's _refusing until I can… until I…"

"Well, then, you've got to at least know what you did wrong," he pressed. "What is it?"

"You want me to write you a fucking list?"

"If you're into that," Adam said, considering. "But I'm thinking you'd do better to be put in the corner for a half hour while you think about it."

"I… _what?"_

He snapped his fingers. "Come on. Pants, shoes, socks – off. Keep your shorts on."

Puck would have staggered if he hadn't been sitting on the couch, and _whoa,_ how had his jeans come off so fast? He shucked them in a pile with his boots and socks and, when Adam rose, he rose with him, to follow, without knowing exactly why.

"You know how to kneel without letting your legs go to sleep?" Adam asked, and Puck nodded. "How about we keep it verbal? Say, 'Yes, Adam.'"

"Yes, Adam," he said, mystified. _What am I doing?_

"Okay, then, get comfortable." Adam gestured toward the corner of the room across from the fireplace. There was nothing there but a blank wall. Puck stared at him in confusion, and Adam sighed in exasperation. "God, didn't your Top teach you_ anything?_ Face the corner. Get down on your knees."

Puck sank to the floor, uncertainty giving way to irritation. _Don't pick on Finn that way,_ he wanted to say, but the truth was, Finn hadn't known what the fuck he was doing any more than Puck did. It was the most bizarre feeling to be sitting in the corner of a stranger's hotel room, looking at the wall.

He felt Adam's hand on his shoulder. "You're lovely, Noah," he said, "but we're not going any further until you start telling me the truth about what you did. Take some time to think it through. We'll talk in a half hour."

_You want me to stare at the wall for a fucking half hour?_ he wanted to yell, but his mouth opened, and he said, "Yes, Adam," and he didn't move his eyes from the spot where the carpet met the wall.

He heard him moving around in the kitchenette, heard water being poured, was suddenly thirsty, but didn't want to ask for a drink. _You don't have to do this,_ he told himself, and sat very still, as still as he could manage. _He doesn't have any power over you. You can get up and move any fucking time you want._

The room was quiet for a little while. He thought Adam might have gone out, but then he heard water running and realized he was taking a shower. Puck's imagination made pretty pictures with that one, but he couldn't concentrate on the fantasy.

_The truth about what you did,_ Adam had said. What he'd done... he wasn't sure if he could think about that. It wasn't as though he felt _bad_, exactly, about getting Quinn to sign the papers. That had simply been necessary. Finn had never understood – he hadn't even wanted to listen.

He wasn't ever going to, now.

_Screw this… I'm DONE with you._ Finn's exact words, echoing forever in his head, the words he'd spat at Puck right after he'd kicked the crap out of him. Just as he'd promised he would.

He wasn't sure how much time had gone by when Adam came back, but the front of his shirt was soaked, and the silent tears were starting to feel like they were choking him. Even Adam's arms holding him, his warm voice saying, "Okay, now, you can let it go, honey, it's all right," didn't bring him back into himself. It wasn't until he felt Adam's hand on the back of his neck, gripping tight, promising guidance, that he let himself open up. Then he was kissing him, desperately, moaning wordless need into his mouth.

"That's it," Adam encouraged. "Just be here with me. I'm right here."

Puck took gulping breaths as he rested his head against Adam's, eyes on his neck. Adam's ears were pierced, gauged wide into gaping holes, with a second piercing in the right earlobe. Somehow looking at those pieces of metal in his flesh helped Puck feel calmer, and he put a finger up to touch Adam's ear. Adam responded with a gentle gasp and tipped his head back, eyes closing. Puck had to feel that gauged hole with his tongue - he _had to._

"Noah," Adam said, firmly, but his voice was alight with tension. "Wait. We have to do this first." His hand brushed Puck's cheek gently. "What happened? You love him, don't you?"

"Yes," he said, the sobs lurking, just barely in check, behind his voice. "I l-love _them. _ Both of them."

"I got that, honey. So what was so bad that you had to leave two people you love so dearly?"

The story came out, in fits and starts at first, then more quickly, until it was as though the dam had burst and the words were flowing like water, while Adam held him there on the floor, letting him talk for several long minutes. He told Adam about the baby, and Finn saying _no, you can't have this – you have to put it down and walk away_. He listened well, making noises in appropriate places, but never interrupting, never making Puck feel like he was being judged, not even when he told about the lies. _So many lies… so many._

When the words ran dry, Puck felt lighter somehow. He'd talked to Toby about it, and that had helped a little, but this... It was as though he'd been carrying it around in a bucket for the past weeks, and now, now that someone knew the whole thing, he could pour it out. All of it. And Adam was still _there,_ still touching his face like that, still listening compassionately, still waiting.

"Why are you still here?" he blurted. "Why haven't _you_ left me?"

"Because I'm not going to," Adam said, his voice impossibly tender and loving. "I'm going to take care of this. Are you ready for that? Do you want to stop feeling bad about this, for good?"

Puck felt his gut drop into his cock, and he nodded, wide eyed. "Yes – yes. _Please._ Just tell me what to do."

"Come here," he said, and he helped Puck move with him to the couch. He wiped Puck's nose and eyes and put a glass of water in his hand. "Drink that." Puck did, feeling suddenly parched after all those tears. "Now…" He set the empty glass aside and took both Puck's hands in his. It seemed oddly ceremonial. Adam wore a blue silk robe, and his hair was glistening from the shower. "Tell me what you did wrong."

"I – I lied to Finn," he said. The words came so easily now. He felt calm. "I told him I wasn't going to take care of this baby, but I _am._ I mean, she's mine. I'm her Papa."

"Yes," Adam nodded. "But you shouldn't have lied. Even if you had to tell him he was wrong, it would have been better than lying to him."

"I got that now," he said, sighing. Adam took his chin in his hand, and gazed directly into his eyes, his piercing blue gaze boring a hole into Puck's heart.

"But _he_ shouldn't have hit you," he said clearly. "That's _not_ your fault. You're done with this guilt. And you're going to put it down _right now."_

"I don't know if I can," he choked, and tried to close his eyes, but Adam wouldn't let him look away. He held him there, pinned to the couch, and Puck realized with a shock that _Adam_ was crying, too. Puck reached up with a wondering hand and touched the tears on his cheek, and Adam took a short, sharp breath.

"You can, and you will," he said, his voice still steady. "I'm going to make you do it. Come here – over my knee. You know what to do?"

Puck nodded, then remembered and added, "Yes, Adam."

"That's a good boy," Adam murmured, and the familiar words, spoken in his sweet voice, let Puck's tears start flowing again, even as he stretched out across his lap, his hips against Adam's leg, resting his head on the couch. Adam's left hand stroked his hair. "That's it – just like that. You can go on crying, honey; it's okay. I'm not going to stop unless you tell me you've had enough. Understand?"

"Yes, Adam," he said again, through his sobs.

"Such a good boy. You did everything right, honey. Now let me take care of this, and you'll be done with it." He said it briskly, as though he were clearing a table, each piece disappearing one at a time until the surface was empty. "Lift up a little."

Puck raised himself up on his knees, and he felt Adam slip his shorts down over his bottom and drop them to the floor. This was familiar territory, and even though Adam's lap felt different, though his smell was different, the way he prepared Puck's behind with a gentle touch was nearly identical. If he reached_ just_ a little with his imagination, he could almost pretend it was Finn, holding him lovingly, giving him what he needed, at last. He squirmed in anticipation.

"Do you want to give up that last lie?" Adam offered, almost teasing, but Puck heard it for what it was. _Do you want to trust me completely?_ And he found that he did. He closed his eyes.

"I'm sixteen," he said.

"All right, then. Sixteen." He laid his hand on Puck's skin, and then Puck felt the touch of something else, something smooth and cool. "Are you going to lie to me again?"

"No, Adam," he promised, his cheek on the couch.

"Are you going to lie to Kurt or Finn again?"

"No," he repeated, and it suddenly felt possible. It lifted him up, and he felt the air flow clearly, in and out of his lungs. _I really don't have to lie anymore. _"No, I won't."

"Good boy," Adam said again, and Puck was smiling in relief and pride as the paddle came down.

He bore the first five strokes, barely feeling it at first through the euphoria of the lifted burden. Then the burn began, and each stroke after that was compounded, adding to the fire against his bare buttocks. He cried out, and Adam said, urgently, "That's it – let it go."

He swore, and struggled, but Adam's hand was remarkably strong, holding him in place, the paddle relentless. It found new, unmarked skin with each stroke, while managing to increase the burn at the same time. The pain was far greater than what he'd experienced in the past with Finn and Kurt, and he wasn't sure what to do with it, until Adam pressed, "You don't have to handle it. Stop trying."

"It hurts," he whimpered.

"Yes, it does, honey," Adam agreed, and when the paddle struck him again, Puck felt himself come apart, as though he'd pulled the threads out of the basted fabric of himself, and he was in pieces on Adam's knee. But Adam held him together. He didn't have to do it – he didn't have to do _anything._ He was in Adam's hands.

"That's right," Adam praised. "I'll take care of it."

The rest of the strokes went by almost without notice. Puck swam in a haze of endorphins, flowing tears and self-realization.

"I don't have to do it alone," he whispered.

Adam wiped his face and helped him blow his nose before pulling him in to rest against his chest. Puck wrapped his arms around Adam's warm, black-clad torso and breathed in his scent.

"What's that, honey?" Adam asked quietly.

"I guess I just realized I really don't have to do this alone," he said. "Even if – even if Finn isn't going to be there, Kurt is, and Kurt's dad. And Sarah, my sister. My brother, too. I can ask _them_ for help."

"You've got a lot of people who want to help you," Adam agreed. Puck rested his head against the front of Adam's blue silk robe, which was soft and ornate. Puck fingered the collar.

"Kurt would like this," he murmured. He looked up into Adam's face. Adam's eyes were red, but dry, and he looked calm and composed. "I bet he would love you," Puck added.

"But he's not here right now," Adam said softly. "You are. Is this what _you_ want?"

Puck's arousal was obvious, and he could feel Adam's as plainly through the thin layer of blue silk. But Adam was giving him an out. He was saying, _we can stop here; this can be it. You don't have to do anything else._ For a moment, Puck felt nothing but his patient regard.

Then emotion rushed up through him, a surprising wave of it, drenching him, making him gasp.A moment of terror lit upon him. "Do _you?"_

"Do I what?" Adam said. He touched Puck's lips with one soft finger. His own lips parted in response.

"Do you love me?" Puck said, but it wasn't at _all_ what he'd meant to say. He felt himself turn scarlet, and he closed his eyes, to shield himself from Adam's answer.

"Oh," Adam said. Puck could hear surprise, but not fear, in his voice, as he gave a shaky laugh. "Well. Like I said, love takes many forms, honey. I honestly don't think I could have done… what I just did… _without_ loving you."

Puck let this incredible response settle over him like a fine mist, saturating him with possibility. "Some people could have," he said, thinking of Dr. Howell. "But… I couldn't, either." He found the courage to open his eyes again and met Adam's azure gaze. "I - god. I don't know how this... happened."

"It's a connection." Adam's soft voice was hypnotic. "It's what we're made to do. We crave it. Somehow we found each other."

"Adam," he said, and it was an urgent plea. Adam seemed to know what it was he was asking for, because he took Puck's face in his two cupped hands and kissed him as passionately and lovingly as he'd ever been kissed in his life. When Adam backed off, they were breathing in unison, and Puck was tugging at the tie of Adam's robe, slipping his hands underneath, around his waist, his back, the smooth skin of his side, stroking him from underarm to thigh.

"You want this," he said, as much to reassure himself as to confirm Adam's feelings.

"So much," Adam replied, his voice still low. Puck felt that rush of emotion again, and the words he didn't say were on his lips. Instead he buried them in Adam's hair, against his neck, then let his hands rove, slipping his robe off his shoulders and onto the cushion. He straddled Adam's legs and pressed him against the back of the couch, wanting to feel how much he wanted it.

It was Adam who stopped them this time, his hand on Puck's chest. "Okay…" Adam said, his own chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. "We should probably figure this out."

"God, _please,_" Puck moaned, tipping his hips into Adam's stomach, craving the contact. Adam's body was smooth and a little on the softer side, less defined than his own, and it was heaven to the touch. Puck's palms tingled as they brushed the silky surface. "Enough talking… I need you."

"Honey," he breathed. His face was open, wistful. "I can see that. I want to give it to you. But… suddenly it feels complicated."

"Why?" Puck's hands stuttered on Adam's back, tracing the pattern of his spine, feeling him bend and sway under his touch. "What's complicated?"

Adam's laugh was a little sad, and a little bitter. "Because now there are _feelings_ involved. Now your boy, Kurt – he's here, on the couch with us. Is _he_ okay with this? Because you're such a young thing, and you need someone to take care of you. Because – I'm wanting this." Puck felt Adam's chest rise and fall with his soft sigh. "Because I'm not wanting this to go away tomorrow."

"Oh." His heart seemed to stop for a moment, and then resume, with a slightly different rhythm, one that included the pattern of Adam's breath, the color of his eyes, the sound of the word _honey,_ for him. It hurt, a little, but more than that, it felt... significant. "I – I don't want it to go away tomorrow, either," he said, honestly.

Adam's gaze flickered to Puck's, startled, hopeful. "Hmmm," he said.

Puck dug into the _complicated_ and tried to help Adam make sense of it. "The three of us, me and Kurt and Finn – we wanted to be a family. The kind that loves each other, and other people, too. You said love takes many forms. We've got friends, and relatives, and adopted family. And lovers. I mean, I have lovers. They're here, in town. Kurt knows it; he knows I still love them, even though we're far away. Even though we don't see each other every day – it doesn't make the love _less_. Just _different."_

Adam nodded slowly. "And he's fine with… this? Would he be, if he knew you were here?"

"He does know," Puck insisted, surprising Adam again. "I told him about you. Before I came up here. It… it wouldn't have felt right otherwise."

Adam's eyes closed, and Puck felt his heart catch again as he saw the tears well up and trail down his face. "I just need a second," he whispered.

"Sure," Puck said. He had a sudden rush of _not Kurt,_ but it had a new meaning, a different flavor to it. Now, it was _Adam_. He gently wiped the tears away from Adam's face. "Is there anything you want from me?"

"Seriously?" Adam laughed. "That's a good question. An appropriate one. And apparently all the answers are there, laid out for me."

"Alex," Puck said suddenly, realizing. He blinked. "Alex sent me off with you. He – he was _fine_ with it. I mean, he's fine with casual stuff, but… I don't think this felt casual, and I think he got that." Puck shook his head. "What you just did with me… didn't feel casual to me."

"No," Adam agreed. His hands went to Puck's chest, gently stroking, and Puck watched his face constrict. "I've done plenty of casual, believe me, and this isn't it. That – what I gave you, what you gave me – it's always been part of an act. Me, putting on that role." He shook his head, pensive. "I'm a good actor. It was fun. Hot. But _you…" _ His hands crept up to Puck's face. "You're not pretending. It's not an act for you."

"No," Puck said, a little offended. _"No,_ definitely not. It took me fucking long enough to figure out that I wanted it in the first place. I don't want to pretend."

Adam's hands tightened on him. "Yeah, but see, it didn't feel like an act for me, either," he insisted. "For the first time. God, Noah, you were _beautiful._ Don't you see?" His eyes were pleading. "This… I had no idea I wanted it. You're teaching me new things. I'm wanting more – more time to figure it out." His hand came to rest on Puck's cheek, and Puck leaned into it. "More time, with you."

He turned his head to kiss Adam's palm, making him shudder. "I'm here," he said gruffly. "This weekend, anyway. And, after that... well, I don't want it to go away, either. Is that enough for you?"

"I don't know?" Adam smiled, and Puck felt himself relax. "I'll take it, though."

"You will? You're not… asking me to leave?" _You're not leaving me?_ he wanted to ask, but even to him, that sounded desperate.

"No." Adam shook his head, and Puck let his arms come up and around Adam's back, holding him close. They breathed together, just for a moment, and even that was far more intense than it had a right to be. "No… I want you to stay. It's complicated… but that's okay."

Puck could feel Adam's wet cheek against his own. "I can do complicated," he said. "I don't know _what_ I even thought this was going to be. I just wanted to be with you."

"I want it too, honey," Adam said, barely audible. "So much more than I expected."

_I get to have this? _rang through Puck's incredulous mind, and ran a cautious hand down Adam's chest to his stomach. _I get to love – and get loved back? Again?_ "Fuck," he said, marveling. "Are you sure?"

Adam mirrored Puck's hands, inching down Puck's chest, along his abs, and lower. "I feel a little conflicted because you're so very… young," he admitted.

"Well, that's one thing you can count on changing," Puck said, grinning, even as he shivered at the increasingly intimate touch. "Just wait around a little while, and I'll get older. And it's not as though I've never done this stuff before. You're not, like, deflowering me or anything."

Adam laughed. "I'm guessing we're well-matched there." He swept his hands down, around Puck's aching cock, and between his parted legs, feather light and maddening. "But there's no two ways around it, honey. We're breaking some laws if we do anything more, here in this state, until you're seventeen."

Puck held Adam's gaze, and, very deliberately, picked up Adam's hand and placed it on his cock. It was surprisingly erotic, and he thrust into Adam's startled grasp, making an encouraging noise. "I've broken laws all my life," he said, his breath coming faster. "I don't see any reason to stop now. Come on – I want this. I've been tested, and I'm clean; I'm not a risk to you."

"Oh, yes you are," Adam promised, his voice unsteady, but he obliged, stroking him with a practiced hand. "Believe me, this is all _kinds _of risky. Most of all to my heart. But – _god,_ I'm going to say it's worth it." He shook his head slowly. "Just look at you."

Puck reveled in Adam's touch, at last, just threw his head back and bucked up into his grip, causing Adam to catch his breath and groan. "You like what you see?" he asked, needlessly - just to hear him say the answer.

"_Yeah,"_ Adam growled, and before he realized quite what was happening, Adam had heaved Puck off his lap and onto the floor, kneeling on top of him. "And this is how I want to see you."

"On my back?" Puck gasped. He thrust up, wanting to resume that contact, because Adam's touch had felt a hell of a lot better than a simple hand job should have. Either he was desperate, or Adam really knew what he was doing.

"Underneath me," Adam clarified, "but I think I'd prefer you on your knees."

"On my –?" Puck's vision wavered, blurred for a moment, and when he recovered and looked up, Adam's gaze was piercing him with its intensity.

"_Now, _Noah," he commanded.

He scrambled to oblige, the voices inside his head chanting _Yes! _over and over again, like his own personal cheering section. Even before he'd settled into a sustainably comfortable crouch, Adam was massaging a wet, cool finger into his ass. He ran his other hand over Puck's brilliantly tanned backside, which burned at the touch.

"That's going to be pretty in the morning," Adam hummed. "I don't think you ever showed your appreciation for that, by the way."

"God," Puck moaned, trying to wedge himself back on Adam's fingers, but he was using a light touch and wouldn't let Puck set any kind of rhythm. _"Thank you_, Adam – you have no idea how much I needed that."

"Oh, I think I might," he said, with a smile. "I'm... honored I could be the one to give it to you." He reached up and dragged his nails down Puck's back, suddenly, making him hiss, and while Puck's attention was on that, pressed another slick finger inside him.

Adam's voice was mesmerizing. "You should know that I have a very strict code regarding safe sex." The nails dug a little deeper, this time into the skin around his neck, and Puck's head came back, as though his hair had just been pulled.

"O-okay," he said, shuddering. "That's - we have one of those, too." He was a little shocked at himself, and more than a little ashamed, to realize that he hadn't even _thought _of his agreement with Finn and Kurt, that he probably would have gone along with whatever Adam had wanted to do, without question. _But that's how you trust him,_ he thought, and took a breath, feeling a little calmer.

"In my pants pocket," said Adam, his fingers probing Puck's insides, stretching him. Those fingers followed him forward as he reached across the floor. Sliding a hand into Adam's cast-off pants was far hotter than it had any right to be, and he whimpered, feeling the slick fabric of the inside of his pocket. Finally he clutched the foil-wrapped package in his hand and passed it back to Adam silently, watching with avid interest over his shoulder as Adam rolled the condom on his erect cock.

"You can come anytime," Adam offered, as though it were a gift, and at the suggestion Puck very nearly did _just then,_ but he somehow managed to hold off. _Finn would be amused at me, thinking of the mailman,_ he thought – and, for the first time in over a week, he was startled to realize he could think about Finn without falling apart. And he didn't think it was due to this man's fingers in his ass. It was because he'd _been forgiven_. It still hurt; he still missed Finn more than he could say – but it was bearable.

"Thank you," he breathed, and it was for everything, all of it, every little thing that Adam had given him, everything he was taking from him now. "Thank you."

"I need you to be very clear with me about what you want here," Adam said, his voice low, as he added a third finger. Puck shook with anticipation, squirming to find that right angle, but Adam was deliberately avoiding it, sweeping into him without a rhythm or a pace, making him wait for it. "Tell me now - what do you want me to do to you?"

He didn't even have to think about it; his back arched on its own as he gasped, "Just fuck me – _please."_

Adam's response was immediate, drawing his fingers out all at once - and then Puck felt him push past his barriers without even trying, filling him with one stroke. It was too much for his tortured libido, and in raw seconds Puck was coming, with a strangled cry, on the hotel carpet.

Adam paused behind him, laughing in amazement and delight. "Oh, honey," he said, shaking his head, "you are _such_ a treasure."

"Don't stop," Puck begged. "I need – please, give it to me, Adam –"

"Oh, I will," he assured him, strong hands gripping his hips, and Puck let himself surrender to the incredible sensation of being filled again and again. It was a singularly satisfying experience - one that was still new enough that he could count on two hands the number of times he'd done that with Finn, and even fewer times with Kurt - and he could already tell, now that he knew what it felt like, was going to be _exactly_ what he wanted nine times out of ten. Getting it now, after a week of dreaming of it daily, nightly... he couldn't help but think: _this is our first time - and how could it possibly get any fucking better than this?_ It was mindboggling to contemplate.

"You feel incredible," he managed to choke out, holding himself up on trembling arms.

"And you - you have _no _idea how perfect you feel, Noah," Adam hummed, his hands firm, guiding him gently with every thrust. Puck felt his spine arch into Adam's touch, into the deliciously erotic sensation of slippery friction as he fucked him, slowly, very deliberately. It was so much the same, and so different, from the way it was with Finn, but he could appreciate that now without anguish, now that the desperate guilt had been forgiven.

Adam's hand on his skin burned, as though the heat from their connection was searing him through his touch. He leaned in, and the contact increased, all along Puck's back, sending sparks up his spine. "No," he said, and Puck thought he heard something break in his voice. "I don't think it's ever been like quite like this."

Puck wasn't sure what to say to that. It should have been easy to lose himself in the feelings, and not worry too much about what it might mean tomorrow - but he realized far too much of him was caught up in wondering about what it meant for _Adam, _and how _he_ might feel tomorrow, and...

"Are you okay?" he couldn't help asking in a hoarse voice, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. He watched Adam react, and wished he knew what to do to help him.

"Noah," Adam said, tenderly, and Puck felt reassured by the tone of his voice as he spoke his name, as much as he was by his touch or his cock inside him. "You don't have to take care of _me._ I'm doing exactly what I want. Your job is to enjoy this, be present in the moment, to appreciate the love that's here. You're doing it _perfectly._ Do you understand?"

Puck felt the last of his reservations drop away, his body opening wide, and he leaned forward, letting him give and take what he wanted. "Yes - Adam," he said, hearing the name on his lips, knowing he would never be able to speak it the same way again. _Adam. My lover, Adam. _

"Yes," Adam echoed, encouraging him. "That's it."

Puck felt the energy shift as Adam changed the pace, not exactly speeding up, but driving forward with greater purpose, and he felt a sense of anticipation. Yet, at the same time, he felt remarkably free, completely able to let it go, not to take any responsibility for his own pleasure, just giving it up entirely to Adam. Because, apparently, that was all he needed to do. _Adam,_ he thought again, in a rolling cloud of gratitude and lust. _Adam._

The cloud consumed him, and he felt more than heard Adam's breathing speed up, rasping in his chest, heard him cry, _"Noah," _and Puck realized - almost after the fact - that he was coming again, too. It was hard to differentiate the pleasure of that from the relief from guilt, and the all-encompassing ecstasy of loving Adam, exactly as he was, and being loved in the same way in return.

Adam, carefully and with extreme patience, supported Puck as he collapsed to the floor, his arms buckling, dropping to his chest and hands. He felt light-headed and a little dizzy. "Adam," he murmured.

"Rest there," Adam said, and stood without apparent difficulty. Puck watched him walk naked across the room, discarding the condom along the way, and return wearing his robe, carrying a blanket from the bed. With infinite care, he spread the blanket over Puck's shaking body, tucking it snugly around his shoulders and neck. "Do you need something to drink?"

Puck licked dry lips and nodded, and once again Adam went to get it for him. Puck thought he should probably feel guilty for just lying there, but Adam's words floated back to his memory: _Your job is to enjoy this._

"You really wanted this from me?" he said softly, when Adam brought the water. He had trouble lifting his head enough to drink, but Adam helped him sit upright and brought the glass to his lips.

"Hey, now," he chided, his smile sweet, but paused as Puck's thumb came up and stroked his mouth, stopping his words.

"Let me be uncertain," Puck insisted. "Please. I'm just not going to believe you all the time. It's too fucking good to be real." He sighed, and his hand looped around the back of Adam's neck, not demanding anything, just holding on.

Adam nodded, following him with his inscrutable blue eyes. "I wanted this from you," he said. "It's not as though I've never done this before - it's not the first time someone's come home with me. And I don't feel bad about doing that, either. But this..." He nodded at the wonder and dawning understanding in Puck's gaze. "This wasn't something I could have done with just anyone. It was _you_ that drew me._"_

He kissed Puck gently, and said, against the warmth of his mouth, "Thank you."

There was no way Puck could respond to that and have it be sufficient, so he just nodded, letting the moment settle inside himself, letting the healing happening. Loving him.

"I love you," he whispered.

Adam paused, closing his eyes briefly against the impact of those words. "Honey," he said, his voice rich and throaty.

"It's okay," Puck said, and glanced away. "You don't have to - I mean, you don't have to say anything."

Adam cupped his chin in his hand, and it felt _so_ familiar, so much exactly the way Finn would have done it - had done it in the past - that he would have dissolved into tears, _again,_ if Adam hadn't shocked him out of it with his brief, calm command: "Stop that. You're not the only one who's feeling things, here."

And Puck could see, in his face, in the way Adam touched him, exactly how he felt. It was more terrifying than comforting, but Puck welcomed it. He had no choice. The feelings were thundering through him like a herd of wild animals, trampling all the fear and rational thought before them. Even the _you're cheating on your boyfriend_ refrain, that had rung through him repeatedly earlier that evening, was almost entirely gone, replaced by the absurd sing-song motif of _this is right, this is just right. _

"You need to give this time," Adam said. "Love like this - I suspect it's fifty percent novelty and thirty percent lust. The rest - well. Let's look at it tomorrow." He released Puck's chin and let him lean back. "You're exhausted," he pointed out. "You should sleep."

"I don't think I can, yet," Puck said. He _felt _exhausted, almost to the point of collapse, but the adrenaline high wouldn't let him relax.

Adam considered him, then glanced over at the fire. "How about you play me something on the guitar?"

Puck nodded, feeling his face smooth and the tension in the rest of his body drop. "I really liked that song you did earlier," he said, as Adam helped him stand and walk the few steps, shaky and naked, to sit before the fireplace. Adam slid his guitar case next to him and Puck snapped open the latches.

"Isn't it great? It was written by Pink. She's amazing. You'll be able to hear it again in a few days - we'll be on Letterman for the nighttime debut." Adam's smile was warm, and he seated himself on the floor next to Puck, poking at the fire. "Big album release coming out this week, too."

"I know," Puck said, tuning his guitar. "I went looking for your CD at the music store and your face was on a piece of fucking cardboard as big as that fireplace." He shrugged. "No CDs yet though. Too bad - I was hoping to hear more."

Adam rolled his eyes. "It feels unreal, that I could have... made it. After Idol, it just happened so fast. But I wanted it; I worked for it." He thought for a moment, then hopped up again, rifled through a box on the counter, and pulled out a CD. "Here," he said, holding it out to Puck and grinning. "A few days early. Technically not allowed... but, honestly, I don't think that indiscretion _really compares _with what we just did anyway."

Puck took the CD and raised an eyebrow at the sultry face on the cover. "Fancy," he said.

"That's me," Adam said complacently.

"Yeah," Puck agreed. "It suits you. You're pretty fucking sparkly."

Adam's eyes twinkled. "Well, I like to say, if something doesn't look right, just throw some glitter on it." He gestured at Puck. "Enough stalling, Noah. Play me something."

"What do you want to hear?" Puck strummed the chords of Kurt's and... and _Finn's_ song, but didn't think too hard about the lyrics.

"Something you love? Something close to your heart."

He thought about it for a few moments, watching Adam watching him. He felt the echo of their lovemaking, the way it had felt so familiar, and the gratitude he felt toward him. "Um. My dad... he really liked Neil Diamond. Like, a whole lot. He had all his albums on LP, and all the songbooks, and when he... left, he gave them to me. I learned to play guitar by working my way through them. It was pretty much the only good thing he ever gave me."

Adam's gaze softened. Puck had seen this expression before, from Burt and Carole, and Finn and Kurt. It was pity, and he didn't usually like it, but from Adam, somehow, he thought he could take it. He was able to ignore it, anyway.

He picked a quiet pattern and began, without ceremony:

http:/ www. youtube. com/watch?v=pT-WZC8run0

_I've seen the light  
><em>_And I've seen the flame  
><em>_And I've been this way before  
><em>_And I'm sure to be this way again_

_For I've been refused  
><em>_And I've been regained  
><em>_And I've seen your eyes before  
><em>_And I'm sure to see your eyes again_

_For I've been released  
><em>_And I've been regained  
><em>_And I've sung my song before  
><em>_And I'm sure to sing my song again_

Adam listened, at first with gentle surprise, shading toward delight, at the sound of Puck's voice. Puck figured Adam got a lot of guys wanting to sing to him, and most of them were probably a hell of a lot better than _he_ was... but he also knew from experience that when someone sang to you, _for_ you, that kind of trumped everything else. Puck was a good singer, and he knew it.

And Adam was loving it. He smiled at Puck, letting the love come through; Puck thought he might not make it through the song if he kept doing that, so he fixed his gaze on the ornate collar of Adam's robe and kept going.

_Some people got to laugh  
><em>_Some people got to cry  
><em>_Some people got to make it through  
><em>_By never wondering why_

_Some people got to sing  
><em>_Some people got to sigh  
><em>_Some people never see the light  
><em>_Until the day they die_

_But I've been released  
><em>_And I've been regained  
><em>_And I've been this way before  
><em>_And I'm sure to be this way again  
><em>_One more time again  
><em>_Just one more time_

"Honey," Adam said softly, as Puck played the last chord. He looked somewhat overcome, and Puck reached out a hand and laid it on his knee.

"Thank you," he said. "For not... well, for taking me seriously, and for helping me. I know I'm a fucking mess."

"You're not," Adam said, waving him off, wiping his eyes. "No more than the rest of us, anyway. I remember sixteen. Everything's a big deal at sixteen. It does get easier."

Puck watched him. "This... is a big deal," he said slowly.

Adam shook his head, forestalling any further comment. "Tomorrow. Wait. Let's let it be, tonight. It's too soon to talk about that."

He nodded, but felt torn. "I just... I don't want to wake up and find a note from you saying thanks, but no thanks," he said.

"I won't do that," Adam promised. "We'll have more time tomorrow to talk, and... see. But now... I'd love to sing you one more song before bed. I can't play guitar worth a damn. You're going to have to help me out again. Are you awake enough, or should we wait until tomorrow?"

"I think I can manage," he said. Adam pulled out a folder of music and selected a guitar tab, handing it to Puck.

"Another Pink song," Adam said, his lips curving into a smile. Puck found himself mesmerized by the minute movements of his expressive mouth, and had to tear himself away to concentrate on the music. _Adam,_ his body thrummed. _Jesus fucking Christ, _Adam.

He strummed through the song once, Adam humming along to set the tempo, and nodding, helping him through some chord changes, and then Puck fell into reverie, listening to Adam's incredible voice. It was clearly what he was born to do: to perform. And here he was, doing it for Puck, and apparently it didn't matter _what_ he sang - it was going to reduce Puck to a pile of fucking mush on the floor.

http:/ www. youtube. com/watch?v=SMZUFUqjwlo

_Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands?  
><em>_Closed your eyes and trusted, just trusted?  
><em>_Have you ever thrown a fist full of glitter in the air?  
><em>_Have you ever looked fear in the face and said, "I just don't care"?_

Adam's brilliant, wicked smile was softened, changed by the stark emotion of the lyrics. Puck fumbled a chord, but recovered, concentrating on getting it right, trying not to listen too deeply. It was a near thing, like his heart was right there on the floor, and he wasn't careful, he might slip and squash it.

_It's only half past the point of no return  
><em>_The tip of the iceberg  
><em>_The sun before the burn  
><em>_The thunder before the lightning  
><em>_The breath before the phrase  
><em>_Have you ever felt this way?_

_Have you ever hated yourself for staring at the phone  
><em>_Your whole life waiting on the ring to prove you're not alone?  
><em>_Have you ever been touched so gently you had to cry?  
><em>_Have you ever invited a stranger to come inside?_

Puck's mind suddenly connected with the reality that _he was going to have to leave._ That, a day or two from now, that was going to be _him,_ staring at the phone. Would Adam call him? Or was this, this one day, going to be it? He shook his head, trying to clear it. _Forget that. He's here, right now. Don't miss this._ He let his eyes lock with Adam's for just a few moments, before he had to go back to concentrating on the chords.

_It's only half past the point of oblivion  
><em>_The hourglass on the table  
><em>_The walk before the run  
><em>_The breath before the kiss  
><em>_And the fear before the flames  
><em>_Have you ever felt this way?_

Adam sang a few effortless _la la las_, letting his voice soar up into that range that should have belonged to girls, but apparently posed no challenge for him. He sure as hell didn't _sound_ anything like Kurt. Kurt sang, in a totally good way, like a girl. Adam sang like a _man,_ and no amount of glitter, nor his absurdly wide range, could change that. As he continued floating those G's and A's across the bridge, his voice dug down into Puck's guts and found a home there.

_There you are, sitting in the garden  
><em>_Clutching my coffee,  
><em>_Calling me sugar  
><em>_You called me sugar_

_Have you ever wished for an endless night?  
><em>_Lassoed the moon and the stars and pulled that rope tight?  
><em>_Have you ever held your breath and asked yourself  
><em>_Will it ever get better than tonight?_

"God," Puck said, his voice breaking, clutching at his guitar like a rescue raft. "I can't fucking imagine."

"I know," Adam said. He closed his eyes and shook his head, his hair falling around his face. "I thought, when I saw you in the coffee house tonight, that - this might be a good night. But I never thought it would be like _this._ Not like this."

Puck carefully set the guitar back in the case, methodically covering it with the velour liner, and closed the case, snapping the latches. Then he hesitantly looked at Adam. _Trusted, just trusted._ He crept across the floor toward him. Put one hand on his leg, and the other around his waist. Laid his head in Adam's lap.

"Oh," Adam said, very quietly. "Oh."

He touched Puck's hair, stroking it, then down his neck and to his back, fingers moving lightly. Puck heard Adam's breath shudder in and out, and wondered what his own breath sounded like. Somehow he couldn't hear it. He was experiencing the most precious feeling, and he wasn't going to miss one instant.

"Stay with me tonight?" Adam said, his voice suffused with complicated emotion.

He managed to say, "I'm supposed to call Alex."

"I can do that, if you tell me his number."

He mumbled the number for the House of the Ampersand, heard Adam punch in the number on his phone, and Alex's rumbling answer.

"It's Adam, from the coffeeshop," he said. "Noah's fine. Do you want to talk to him?" There was a pause. "I'll tell him. He's resting." Another pause. "Yes, it's been... instructive, I think. Healing." Puck felt his fingers again, stroking his forehead. It made him feel sleepy, like he was floating away. "Do you want to say anything to Alex, honey?"

"Mmmm-mmm," Puck said, shaking his head. He wasn't sure he was capable of speech, to begin with, and if he _was_ able to say something, he wasn't at all willing to trust what would come out.

"He'll call in the morning," Adam said quietly. "Thanks. Yeah, he is. He really is."

Puck felt helpless, but somehow it wasn't a scary feeling at all. Adam gently tugged him to his feet, taking his hand, as though he was leading him on a long journey, instead of just into the other room. It was Adam who undid the tie of his robe, Adam who turned down the covers of his bed, Adam's hands that smoothed the covers up along his legs and shoulders and pulled them snug around his neck. Adam's lips that laid a chaste, gentle kiss on his cheek. Adam's miraculous voice that said, "Good night. I'll be right here next to you."

"Thank you," he replied, letting his eyes fall closed.

He slept, without dreams - _without dreams -_ for the rest of the night.

And when he woke the next morning, it was already light out, and the man whose head rested on the pillow beside him was as beautiful and compelling as he had been the night before. Puck lay there for an inordinate amount of time, just watching him sleep, not touching him, praying, _God, let me survive this. Let my heart handle another love like this. I'm not at all sure it will._

When he finally did stir, he moved in closer, putting a hand on the skin of his shoulder, feeling its silky smooth surface, letting the tears drip from his eyes to soak the pristine white pillowcase. Adam's eyes opened. Puck thought he might never see a blue like that again.

"You're crying," he murmured.

"It's okay," Puck whispered, even though it wasn't.

Adam's hand came up to touch his cheek. "What can I do?"

What could he say? _Come back with me to Ohio? Let me wake up with you every morning, just like this? Figure out how I can split myself into two, so you can have one and the other one can go back to Kurt?_

"Just don't let go," he said, reaching for him. Adam wrapped him in his arms and held him for several long minutes.

"I won't, honey," he said at last. "I won't."

* * *

><p><em>I know the battles of chasing the shadows of who you wanna be<br>__It doesn't matter, go on and shatter  
><em>_I'm all you need  
><em>_Broken pieces, break into me  
><em>_So imperfectly what you should be  
><em>_Lay here, it's safe here, I'll let you be broken open  
><em>_Hide here, confide here so we can be broken open_

_- Adam Lambert, "Broken Open"_


	4. Chapter 4

_I think when I was younger, I could box in what my sexuality was about, what's my type and all that. But as I've gotten older, and just learned more about myself and the world, it's not really about type anymore. I mean, if someone's hot, they're hot. If someone's interesting, they're interesting. If you have an energy and a chemistry with someone, then you have chemistry. Done. You can't really define that or explain it. It just is. You just meet people and you click, or you don't. You know? [Pauses.] Although - I like pretty boys. … And I'm generally drawn to [guys who are] younger than me._

_- Adam Lambert, OUT Magazine, November 2009_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER FOUR<p>

Adam didn't give him a choice, but he did offer him something to wear, other than his jeans and t-shirt from last night.

"I haven't been to temple in, like, six years," Puck said, frowning.

Adam smiled, fingers working their way up the buttons of his shirt. "Maybe it's time to start going again, then."

Puck held out the black shirt Adam had given him, fingering the stitching. "I don't think I even believe in God anymore."

"You don't go to temple for _you,"_ Adam scoffed. "You go for your community. It's tradition."

"Community? You don't know anybody here."

Adam's gaze was steady. "Community's bigger than the town you live in. It's part of connecting with where you come from, no matter what you believe." He put a hand on Puck's back. "Al tid'ag."

The hand burned through his shirt and made him tingle. _I just want you to take me back to bed, _he thought, but he didn't say it. "What's that mean?" he asked instead.

"Don't worry."

He took his arm and led him downstairs to the hotel lobby, waiting to be seated at the hotel restaurant. Puck eyeballed the woman at the desk, who was watching them suspiciously. Adam just gave her a cheerful wave, and she looked away in a hurry.

"You're way too awake for morning," Puck muttered.

"Somehow I slept well last night," Adam said, eyes wandering over the menu. His tone was light and teasing, but Puck felt a shiver of understanding pass between them. They chose a booth facing away from the door and sat beside each other, hands laced under the table. Adam ordered coffee, and, without asking, a pot of Darjeeling for Puck.

"I slept well, too," Puck admitted. "Way better than usual. I almost always wake up in the middle of the night."

Adam's fingers rubbed the knuckles of Puck's hand. "Any particular reason?"

"My dad. I told you about him. He did stuff to us, me and my brother and my mom." It was easier to say than he expected; today all the words were flowing easily, without any kind of hesitation. "I remember things at night, things I don't remember during the day. By the time I'm awake again, they're mostly gone, but every now and then, they stick with me. I wish they wouldn't."

Adam accepted the presspot of tea from the waitress with thanks, and set it aside, pouring the milk into Puck's cup. Puck watched him with a raised eyebrow, but Adam said nothing until Puck said, "Uh, I can do that."

"Just relax," Adam said, complacently, tapping the spoon off on his cup. "You're fine. How's your brother dealing with it? Is he younger or older?"

"Five years older. But I have a sister, too; she's five years younger. Timothy, and Sarah. Timothy - he took off when he was my age. Couldn't deal. But he came back to help with - my mom."

"What happened with your mom?"

Puck watched the funeral procession drive by in his mind. He'd been kind of impressed by the number of people there, considering what kind of a judgmental bitch she'd been. He'd sat at the park across the street and watched from his truck. Kurt had seen him, but when he'd tried to approach him, Puck had driven off in a hurry.

"She died."

Adam's hand found his under the table again. "I'm sorry."

Puck nodded. "It's hard to believe, still."

"When did it happen?"

He had to think about it for a minute, and then had to release the catch in his throat before he could speak. "Last Thursday."

Adam's eyes went wide and shocked, and he looked like he wanted to say something, but the waitress came by to take their order. Puck just shook his head once, and Adam turned to the waitress, calm as anything, and said, "The potato pancakes, please. And do you have turkey bacon?"

"French toast," Puck said, handing her the menu. "With bacon. Regular bacon. Not too crispy."

The silence between them went on for long enough that Puck felt like he had to look up at Adam to see what he was thinking. He couldn't be certain, even then, but there was compassion, and concern, and the thing he'd called love last night, but now he wasn't sure what to call it. He reached for his teapot, but Adam stilled his hand.

"I'll do it," Adam told him, and it wasn't a negotiation. Puck sat back, feeling antsy with nothing to focus on, and concentrated on the contact of Adam's thigh against his.

The tea was the perfect shade. He watched Adam pour it into the cup and stir until the white and the brown became tan. Adam picked up the cup and placed it into his hands; it was warm and comforting.

"Noah," he said, and Puck heard the concern in his voice. "What happened?"

He spoke automatically, the words he'd said two dozen times or more over the past week. "She was sick. We're still not exactly sure, but something in her brain. Probably a stroke."

Adam slid an arm between his back and the back of the bench, giving him a place to rest his head, and Puck did, listening to the beat of Adam's heart. "I'll bet that was really awful."

"The _most _awful part was how relieved I was," Puck said. "She was a grade-A bitch, nothing else to say about it. She kicked me out of the house; said I could choose between living there and being with Kurt and Finn."

Adam's arm tightened around him protectively, and Puck actually _did_ feel protected within that circle. It was improbable how much he appreciated it.

"Sounds like you've had a lot of ultimatums in your life recently," Adam said. He sounded angry, but even without seeing his face, Puck could tell it wasn't about him.

The waitress slid their plates onto the table, but Puck barely noticed, with Adam's arm around him, so close against his body. He had a green, fresh smell, not like cologne or soap, but like cut grass, crisp and clean. Puck turned his head into Adam's neck and breathed him in, and felt him respond, like a vibration against him.

"I'm trying to be here for you," Adam murmured. "But you're damned distracting."

"I don't care," Puck said. "Fuck breakfast. I want _you."_

"Later," came Adam's silky reply. "You need to eat. Drink your tea." While Puck sipped, he reached a casual arm across the table, still curved around Puck's back, and snagged a couple plastic containers of butter. He peeled the plastic off each one and spread it on Puck's French toast, then cut them into neat squares.

"You're really going to make me go to temple with you," Puck said, stabbing a square of toast and dipping it into syrup before cramming it into his mouth. _At least he's not trying to _feed_ me, _he thought irritably.

"I really am," Adam agreed. "Now, even more than before. It's still Hannukah, for one thing. And I'm guessing you haven't recited the Kaddish for your mother."

"Why?" Puck pushed the toast around on his plate. "It's stupid. It's not going to help her any. She's still going to be dead."

"In this case, it _is_ for you." Adam's voice was brisk, but his hands were gentle. They touched his back and neck, feeling warm through the black cotton shirt Adam had lent him. "Expressing your devotion, in the face of your sorrow and anger. If you were serious about it, you'd recite it every day for the next eleven months, during avelut."

"Yeah, and I'd stop going to parties and listening to music for those eleven months, too," he said angrily. "_That's_ not going to happen."

"So it's not going to hurt to do it once. And it might help." Adam smoothed his collar. "Do you trust me?"

_That's a hell of a question._ Puck closed his eyes. "Yes," he said, reluctantly.

"Then let me take care of this." He smeared some sour cream on his potato pancakes and took a bite, making a face. "Pity. All oil and no flavor."

"You should try mine. They're fucking amazing."

"I'm not at all surprised," said Adam, smiling. "Just like everything else about you."

"Whatever," he muttered, feeling the heat on his cheeks and neck. Adam watched him as he ate another forkful of French toast.

"What happened to the confident young man I met last night?" he asked. "You think so little of me that you'd assume I'd fall in love with someone who's less than amazing?"

Puck stopped chewing and put his fork down, barely able to swallow. His eyes took in Adam's placid expression with disbelief. "You said... last night, that you didn't know if...?"

"I think it's still too early to know for sure how things are going to turn out for us," he said quietly. "But I know how I feel, right now - not in the heat of the moment. Right now... there's definitely love here."

Puck steadied his trembling lips and willed himself not to cry in the middle of the restaurant. _If some asshole is going to snap a picture of the two of us together, _he prayed,_ don't let it be when I'm looking like a complete wuss._ Instead he buried his face in Adam's shirt and tried to accommodate this new world, in which his box including all the most important people in his life had suddenly been expanded by one additional person, someone he barely knew, and might never see again after tomorrow.

"That's... pretty freaking terrifying," he said, his voice muffled by the soft fabric.

"It doesn't have to be, honey," Adam replied. "It's the beginning. Let's just take things as they come." Puck felt the pressure of his grip on his neck. "But don't try to hide from me, or lie to me. It won't... end... well for you."

Puck shifted on the vinyl seat, grateful for the padding, and nodded mute understanding.

"Eat," implored Adam. "We need to get going. Service starts at 9:30, and I'm not a fashionably late kind of guy."

But the elevator ended up being too close quarters and too long alone with Adam for Puck to handle, and as soon as the doors closed, he slammed Adam up against the wall and wrestled his mouth into a desperate, smoldering kiss. Adam went along with it for the ride up to the sixth floor, but when the bell dinged and the doors slid open again, Adam put a firm hand on his chest and pushed him away.

"I know what you're doing," he said, "and I don't take well to being topped from the bottom."

"I just want -" Puck said, reaching for him again, and Adam shook his head, taking him by the hand and walking him down the hall toward his room.

"Yes, I know very well what you want, and I've already said _later._ I'm susceptible to your charms, but I also know when I'm being manipulated. Even if you don't realize you're doing it." He stopped Puck in the hallway and looked hard at him. "You're going to have to let me set the agenda, honey, or else there's going to be consequences - and you're _still_ not going to get what you want."

"Uh," said Puck, with a shiver, feeling the words travel down into his gut, and lower. "You do realize those kind of promises are not really going to get me to behave myself?"

"They'd better," Adam purred, stroking his face and giving Puck his most devastating glance from under his lowered lids. "Or you're not going to be up for much driving home when I'm done with you. You think that paddle was the worst thing I have in my bag of tricks?"

Puck felt curiosity warring with dread, but then he considered the discomfort he was already going to be in on that 23 hour drive. "Maybe I could just stay longer," he said, in what he'd planned to be a teasing tone, but what came out just as hopeful and fucking desperate as he was feeling. _Shit. _His embarrassed gaze dropped to his boots, hiding under the tops of the grey slacks Adam had lent him.

Adam's gentle hand guided his face back up to him, with one hand under his chin. His blue eyes were sad. "We're flying out late this afternoon," he said. "Or else you can _bet_ I'd be keeping you, as long as I could. I have to be back in LA for the American Music Awards tonight."

"Th-this afternoon?" A frisson of panic raced through him and he clutched at Adam's arms. "No - I thought we had a whole day, another night -"

Adam shook his head, once. "So here's what we're going to do," he said. "Are you ready to listen to me now?"

Slowly, Puck's arms dropped, returned to his side. He took a few deep breaths. "Yeah," he said, finally.

"Try again," Adam said, the warning tone lurking beneath his loving voice.

"Yes, Adam," he said hastily. He gazed up at Adam, the scant inches between them seeming like miles. Adam stroked Puck's chest, speaking in a soft tone, calming him further with his words.

"We're going to get in my car and drive down to the synagogue for Shabbat services. Then we're going to come back here and spend a few hours getting to know each other better. We're going to use every moment we have, as best we can. Then I'm going to say goodbye to you, at 3:00. You're going to go back to Alex's house, eat a good dinner." His lips made a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Does Alex have a TV?"

"Yes - Adam." _No,_ he was crying. _No. We can't only have six hours left - and we're wasting two hours of it going to fucking temple?_

"Good. The American Music Awards are on tonight. Then... you're going to watch me perform for you." His hand curled out and pulled Puck into his chest, and Puck was startled to feel Adam's own breath shuddering. "Just for you."

Puck's _no's_ came out onto Adam's shirt, a litany of denial, and he clutched at him. "Yes," Adam insisted, his voice breaking. "Yes, honey. It's how it's going to have to be."

Through the blur of tears, his face turned to the side, Puck saw a young man in the hall, just a few doors down from where they stood. He watched them with clear regret and sadness, and let out a sigh as he slid the keycard into his door. "Adam," he said. "What are you doing?"

Adam's arms tightened on Puck. "Embracing love," he said. "This is it, Tommy. What I've been singing about all along. This is _it."_

"You're going to be useless tonight," he said. "And we've got a fucking _live performance_."

"You're wrong," he said defiantly, turning to face the young man, holding Puck securely in one arm. "I'm inspired. It's going to be... unforgettable."

* * *

><p><em>Imma pick u up, Imma pick u up<br>__We're gonna see where we can go  
><em>_This is how I live, this is what I give  
><em>_And you're the one I want to know_

_- Adam Lambert, "Pick U Up"_


	5. Chapter 5

_I had a psychedelic experience where I looked up at the clouds and went, Oh!….I realized that we all have our own power, and that whatever I wanted to do, I had to make happen.  
><em>_- Adam Lambert, New York Post, August 2009_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER FIVE<p>

The temple was only a mile and a half from the hotel, straight down Galisteo, but Adam insisted on leaving Puck's truck and having his driver take them. Puck was in no position to argue.

"You'd be surprised how persistent fans can be when they want something," Adam said, sliding into the back seat beside him, his security in the front seat. "I had one follow me into the bathroom last month. He wanted me to sign an autograph while I was standing at the urinal."

"Classy," Puck said, grinning, but it was a hollow smile. He couldn't muster more than that, and Adam seemed to understand. He took Puck's hand, and they made the brief ride in silence.

Just before they climbed out of the car, Adam leaned over and gave him one long, lingering kiss. "You're a good boy," he said, "and I love you. Don't forget."

It took Puck a few tries to haul himself out of the car after that, but he wiped his eyes and put on his game face. _I can get through this,_ he told himself, ignoring the whispers and pointed fingers from some of the congregation. Adam took his elbow and guided him up the sidewalk toward the synagogue.

The usher greeting them at the door was pleasant enough, and Puck appreciated the value of anonymity. "Welcome to Temple Beth Shalom," he said. "Happy Hannukah."

He didn't blink twice at two guys coming into the synagogue together, except to point out the baskets of yarmulke and tallit shawls. "If you want," he added. "We're pretty free-form here; reform, you know. Some of the women wear them too."

Adam took one of the satin-covered skull caps and put it on. "Shabbat shalom," he said, smiling at the usher, "and Hanukkah Sameach."

"Uh, yeah," Puck said. "Thanks." He took a green yarmulke and held it in his two hands as they walked up the aisle and found a seat in one of the rows of chairs. He glanced around himself with a sense of unreality. The room was bright and sunny, and everyone was friendly, and Puck was as miserable as he'd ever been in his life.

"You can do this," Adam said in a low tone, their fingers intertwining again. "It's going to be okay."

_Fucking Job had it right. _Puck ground his teeth together and stared at the Torah on its stand in the front of the room. _God gives, and God fucking takes it away again._

Adam was reading the order of service pamphlet the usher had given them, but Puck didn't care what was first and what was next and what was last. He just wanted to get it over with. He didn't protest when Adam took the yarmulke and smoothed it out over Puck's mohawk, and placed a copy of the Gates of Prayer in his hands.

"Hey," said the man sitting on their right, next to Adam. "You're that guy from American Idol, right? The singer guy."

"That's me," Adam said. The man's eyes lit up.

"Wow," he said. "My wife, she loves you. She said you should have won."

"Kris was the better singer," Adam said, shaking his head. "He deserved it."

"Hey, we're singing a song this morning," said the man, holding out a piece of music. "You want to sing with us? It's a cappella and we could use another tenor."

"You get two for the price of one," said Adam, taking the music and gesturing to Puck.

"Uh," said Puck. "I don't think –"

"Hey, that's great," said the man, grinning at Puck. "Just come up and join us after the Torah reading."

Puck glared at Adam. "I don't want to sing," he said.

"Tough," he said, and his voice was light, but Puck could see his expression. He doubted he was going to get him to budge. Puck sighed heavily and slumped in his chair. _Un-fucking-believable._

The welcome and candle-lighting and initial prayers went by in a blur, and before he knew it, they were standing for the Bar'chu. Adam helped him turn to the right page, but Puck shook his head. "I know it," he said, a little petulantly.

"Okay, honey," Adam whispered, smiling. "I wasn't sure."

It had been a while, it was true, but he never forgot lyrics once he learned them, and this was no different. They went through the Avot and the Gevurot, then the cantor said, "Please take a moment for silent meditation," and the room went quiet.

Puck felt a sudden sense of panic. He wasn't sure where it was coming from, exactly, but he knew if he didn't get out of that silent room, he was going to fucking scream. But before he could bolt across the aisle for the door, Adam gripped his arm, and there was no chance of escape.

"Noah," he said, low, but unmistakably an order, looking down at him out of one eye. "You _will_ do this."

"I - I can't," he hissed. "I'm going to freak out."

"No, you're not," Adam said again, in that same tone. "You can sit down if you feel lightheaded, but this is not a choice. You need this."

He couldn't even ask _How do you know what I need?_ because Adam, who'd known him for all of twelve hours, clearly _did._ He felt the tightness in his chest ease with each breath, and he found himself nodding. The woman standing next to him looked at him with concern, and he muttered, "I'm okay."

They recited the Sh'ma after that, and Puck found himself saying the words as though for the first time:

_Sh'ma Yis'ra'eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad.  
><em>_Barukh sheim k'vod malkhuto l'olam va'ed_.  
><em>V'ahav'ta eit Adonai Elohekha b'khol l'vav'kha uv'khol naf'sh'kha uv'khol m'odekha<em>.  
><em>V'hayu had'varim ha'eileh asher anokhi m'tzav'kha hayom al l'vavekha.<br>__V'shinan'tam l'vanekha v'dibar'ta bam  
><em>_b'shiv't'kha b'veitekha uv'lekh't'kha vaderekh uv'shakh'b'kha uv'kumekha..._

_Hear, Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.  
><em>_Blessed be the Name of His glorious kingdom for ever and ever.  
><em>_And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.  
><em>_And these words that I command you today shall be in your heart.  
><em>_And you shall teach them diligently to your children, and you shall speak of them  
><em>_when you sit at home, and when you walk along the way, and when you lie down and when you rise up..._

He found himself thinking of his daughter, still growing, forming in Quinn's goyim belly, and realized with a start that she wouldn't _actually_ be Jewish. _Matrilineal,_ he thought. _It goes through the mom. My mom was Jewish, but Quinn isn't. _He wondered what he'd need to do to change that. Then he thought, with sudden anger, _Why the fuck does it matter if she's Jewish? What does any of this fucking matter?_

They sat back down, and Puck felt the pressure of the folding chair against his sore behind, and that, oddly, calmed his anger more than anything else. He watched the rabbi place his hands over the Torah.

"Aren't they going to carry it around?" he whispered. "We always did a parade, kind of, and people could touch it, like for good luck."

"Not all congregations do," Adam murmured back.

Puck was a little disappointed for that. He remembered touching the ornate covering of the Torah as it passed each week, and thinking that he was touching something that had been touched by thousands of other Jews, making that connection back through the years, all the way to Jerusalem. He thought about what Adam had said, about this not being for him, but rather for his community, and he felt kind of good - that maybe his being here was making it better for everyone else in the room, or even everyone else in the world who was attending services at the same time. Then he felt stupid for that thought, and he was glad nobody else could read what was in his mind.

_Maybe,_ he thought, nervously, as Adam looked at him with frightening awareness. _Maybe he can. _

He sat, mired in his thoughts, for far too long, until the rabbi said in a quiet voice, "This week's Torah reading is about Noah."

Adam smothered a surprised laugh, and Puck glared at him, not daring to kick his ankle in the middle of the service.

"Genesis 6:9. Now the earth was corrupt in God's sight, and the earth was filled with violence. And God saw the earth, and behold, it was corrupt, for all flesh had corrupted their way on the earth. And God said to Noah, "I have determined to make an end of all flesh, for the earth is filled with violence through them. Behold, I will destroy them with the earth…"

The reading droned on, Puck tuned it out. He'd never been a fan of the whole destructive god thing. It made him uneasy. _It was pretty fucking clear that whatever God had intended when he made us, we weren't living up to it._ He leaned back in his chair and sighed, and stole a look at Adam, who seemed to be lost in thought.

Finally the rabbi was done. He leaned on the podium, looking at his congregation, with a thoughtful smile. He was bald, and his ornate yarmulke looked funny on his hairless head.

"So… what's this story about Noah telling us about ourselves?" he asked. "Because, let's face it; human beings are naturally selfish creatures. We want to talk about _ourselves._ And we rarely consider the consequences that our choices have on others. Things haven't changed much since the days of Noah. Back then, the violent man didn't stop to say to himself, 'My violence is making this world worse. My sins are hurting the whole of humanity.' But it was true then, and it's still true. Each time we sin, no matter how private and personal we imagine the sin to be, we contribute to the destruction of the world."

Puck shifted uncomfortably on his chair again. He figured the uncushioned chairs were designed to keep the minyan awake during the fucking boring shit the rabbi had to say. Adam didn't seem to have any compunction about napping in temple; his head was back, eyes closed. But as Puck squirmed, Adam's hand came out and rested on his leg briefly, and he subsided.

"The Torah tells that the wages of sin are death," the rabbi was saying. "Sin affects the world around us. It affects others around us. For example, an alcoholic might suppose that his drinking problem is his own business. But when he abuses his wife and children, it is their problem. When he can't perform at work, it is his employer's problem. When he loses his job, it is his lawyer's problem. When he can't afford to take care of his family anymore, it is the community's problem. Our sins touch the lives of everyone around us. They pollute the spiritual environment of our world."

Puck suddenly felt as though the rabbi was speaking to him – like, maybe like Adam, he had x-ray vision or something and could see exactly what was going on in his heart. It was kind of creepy.

The rabbi surveyed the congregation, and met Puck's eyes along the way. "God punishes sin," he said frankly. "For Him to leave sin unpunished would be unjust. Think of it this way. Suppose there was a murder trial. The defendant was proven guilty. The jury returned a guilty verdict, but the judge, being a kindly fellow, dismissed the verdict, saying, 'Well, the poor guy is probably sorry. I don't think we need to punish him.' Everyone would be outraged at the travesty of justice.

"Yet people want to imagine God like that. We don't like to think of God as a punisher of sin. We want Him to just look the other way, like a kindly old grandfather who winks at the misdeeds of his grandchildren. Yet God's kingdom is founded upon justice.

"This is the problem with sin. It begets judgment. In the days of Noah, the sin of humanity was so great that justice demanded God take action against it. The easiest thing for God to do would have been to simply will the universe out of existence. He could have just shut the entire thing down and started over with a new creation. Instead, He chose to try to fix the world."

_Why?_ Puck wanted to yell, to fill the synagogue with his demand for an explanation. _Why – if things were so fucking bad, why bother? Why were the stupid humans worth it?_

The rabbi touched the Torah before him, shrouded in its decorative cover. "In Judaism, "fixing the world" is known as _tikkun olam_. It's an important concept: the world is broken, and it needs to be fixed. Whenever we apply our efforts to doing good by alleviating human suffering, standing up for justice, making peace in the midst of strife and choosing to do right instead of wrong, we are fixing the world. As we make the world a better, more godly place, we are restoring it to God's original intent."

The rabbi stepped down from the riser and walked toward the congregation, everyone's eyes following him as he approached them. "Human evil grieves God's heart," he said. "God is not peering down on the planet making observations like a dispassionate astronaut. Neither is he watching us like a man sitting on a sofa watching a football game. Rather, he is like a Father who observes the behavior of His children. He is like a king taking note of how events unfold in his kingdom. When a father sees his children involved in self-destructive behaviors, it grieves him. When a king sees his subjects living in open rebellion against him, it angers him."

Puck found his eyes inexplicably prickling with tears, and he was glad for Adam's shoulder beside him, as he leaned in and let his head rest there for a moment. Adam murmured wordless comfort, and Puck felt lips pressing to his forehead.

The rabbi smiled, not like a king or a father, but like a friend, and Puck somehow appreciated that. "But through our own humanity, we can redeem the evil of the world," he said. "We can make it better, through kind acts, and by helping others come to term with their sin. And we can be redeemed in God's eyes by atoning for our sins and choosing a better way. Like a father, he loves us and wants us to be better, and like a king, he protects us from ourselves when we err. All we ever need do is ask for help."

Puck looked down at the Gates of Prayer book in his hand, the tears dripping from his eyes making little puddles on the cover. He wiped them off with his hand, and then he saw the tissue Adam was holding out for him, and he took it gratefully. _How did I come to deserve this,_ he wondered, blowing his nose. _How did I get this man, giving me exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it? Because I'm pretty sure it wasn't God who sent him to me. Pretty sure He doesn't deliver up hot Dominant guys on request._

Adam was tugging on his hand, now, and he stood to follow him without thinking about it, but then he realized they were heading for the smaller group sitting near the front of the synagogue. "I didn't even look at the fucking music," he whispered.

"Don't give me that," Adam said with amusement. "I know you can sight-read just fine."

They sat beside the man who'd spoken with them earlier, who gave Puck a wide smile. "Glad you could join us," he said. "Tenor or baritone?"

"Baritone, I guess," Puck muttered. He looked at the cover of the music: _On Children, by Sweet Honey in the Rock, set for SATB ensemble. Lyrics based on the poem by Kahlil Gibran. _

"We have a special treat for you today," the cantor said, raising his melodic voice. "The sermon we had last week was about Kahlil Gibran, the Lebanese-American philosophical essayist, novelist, mystical poet, and artist. His most famous book, _The Prophet_, has been a bestseller since the 1920s. Gibran believed that if a sensible way of living and thinking could be found, people would have mastery over their lives. Today, our choir brings us a setting of a chapter of _The Prophet_, originally performed by the a cappella women's choir Sweet Honey in the Rock. We hope you enjoy it."

He raised his hands, the pianist gave the starting pitches, and they began.

http:/ www. youtube. com/watch?v=rh4fgYGEKL8

Puck found himself pulled into the rhythm of the piece, enjoying the syncopation and spare harmonies. But when they were done, he turned to the last page, where the original poem was written out in full - and just as when Adam had sung to him, somehow it seemed like the words were _just for him._

He was doused with an overwhelming sense of awareness, of himself, in relation to the words on the page, the chair he was sitting on, the congregation around him, the building, Santa Fe... and the long road, leading back to Ohio, back to Kurt, back to his daughter, even back to Finn – and away from Adam.

_On Children_

_Your children are not your children.  
><em>_They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.  
><em>_They come through you but not from you,  
><em>_And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.  
><em>_You may give them your love but not your thoughts,  
><em>_For they have their own thoughts.  
><em>_You may house their bodies but not their souls,  
><em>_For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,  
><em>_which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.  
><em>_You may strive to be like them,  
><em>_but seek not to make them like you.  
><em>_For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.  
><em>_You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.  
><em>_The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,  
><em>_and He bends you with His might  
><em>_that His arrows may go swift and far.  
><em>_Let our bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;  
><em>_For even as He loves the arrow that flies,  
><em>_so He loves also the bow that is stable._

They stayed seated with the choir for the rest of the service, singing the Mi Shebeirach, the prayer for healing, then the blessing on the wine and the concluding prayers. Somehow, after singing, he felt more calm. The service didn't seem so hard, anymore, to sit through.

As they finished the Aleynu, the cantor said, "The congregation may rise for the Mourner's Kaddish, in memory of those who died within the past year."

Adam nudged him. "Are you going to do it?" he said. Puck nodded, and Adam gave him a smile suffused with affection and pride. "Kol hakavod."

_Hell - I could use some good luck. _His face was red as he shuffled to his feet.

"You are invited to speak the names of those you are mourning," said the cantor. The room was silent, and into the silence came the names, more than Puck would have expected. _People die,_ he thought, and it was something of a revelation. _People die. It just happens._

"Ruth," he said, feeling his voice catch, and tried again, stronger this time: "Ruth Hannah Kohn Puckerman."

Adam took his hand and gripped it firmly as Puck stumbled through the Aramaic of the Kaddish, feeling it come back to him as he spoke the ancient words, older than Hebrew: _Let the glory of God be extolled, let His great name be hallowed, in the world whose creation He willed. May His kingdom soon prevail in our own day, our own lives, and the life of all Israel…_

And fuck, if he didn't feel _better,_ after the final _Amein._

The reception afterwards was lively and friendly. More than one person approached Adam to welcome him and make some polite comment about American Idol, but nobody was obnoxious about it. Puck found himself being largely ignored, which suited him fine.

But as he was sampling the raspberry rugelach, he felt a touch on his elbow, and turned to see the smiling face of the rabbi. "Your first time here?" he said.

"Yeah," Puck said. "Just passing through from Ohio."

The rabbi nodded. "I noticed you spoke for someone, during the Kaddish."

"My... my mother. She died last week."

He didn't seem surprised, and Puck was relieved not to see pity on his face. _I've had enough fucking pity._ "Do you know why we recite the Kaddish for those who had died?"

Puck paused in chewing the raspberry pastry. "Not really. It's not really _about _death, is it?"

"No," said the rabbi. "After a great loss, like the death of a parent, people often lose faith in God. They can't understand why God could be so unjust as to allow their loved one to die. The recitation of the Kaddish reaffirms their faith, publicly, in front of their whole community." His eyes were kind. "It reflects well on your mother, to have raised a son who can express such faith in the face of personal loss."

Puck scratched his neck. "I don't know if I actually believe," he said. "Like, any of this stuff."

"That's okay," said the rabbi. "You said it. It's a start. Try it again tomorrow and see how it goes."

He smiled at Puck again, and wandered away, presumably to say cryptic things to other members of the congregation. Puck saw Adam watching him from across the room. He held very still as Adam approached him, making his way through the crowd, and when he was close, he nearly gave in to his overwhelming urge to lay his head on Adam's shoulder.

"How are you feeling?" asked Adam.

"I'm tired," he sighed. Adam reached up and cupped his cheek, brushing a thumb over his eyebrow. It felt far too intimate for the middle of a synagogue, but he leaned into it anyway, closing his eyes, letting Adam's touch keep him in the present.

"Let's go back to the hotel." Adam took his hand and led him through the reception to the exit, waving at the ushers. Puck could only follow, back to the parking lot, to the car, where the driver was waiting.

The door to the Cadillac was barely closed all the way before Adam's arms were around him, cradling him, stroking through his hair, and he responded immediately, letting Adam caress him, and the importance of the moment, of this whole fucking weekend, came forth in his kiss. "You did so well, honey," Adam murmured. "I was so proud of you."

Puck rested his forehead on Adam's collarbone, and let his eyes fall closed. "I'm really glad you made me."

* * *

><p><em>So walk me through<br>__Back through the fields  
><em>_When I walked down  
><em>_That road I find  
><em>_I already know  
><em>_On with the show  
><em>_If there's a god  
><em>_Then god only knows  
><em>_Walk me back through  
><em>_Fields I knew  
><em>_- Adam Lambert, "Fields"_

* * *

><p><em>(Author's note: Full attribution of the chapter on the reading from Noah and most of its commentary is given to <em>_http__:/ __torahportions__. __org__, which in turn adapted the work of Torah Club at __http__:/ __www__. __ffoz__. __org__/__torahclub__. Many thanks also to __http__:/ __www__. __jewfaq__. __org__/__ for basics about aspects of a typical Saturday service, as well as the expectations of a son mourning the death of his mother. I am not a rabbi, nor am I a scholar or practitioner of Judaism, and any mistakes or errors in the interpretation of a reform Shabbat service are mine alone.)_


	6. Chapter 6

_I like the top… sorry… that's inappropriate.  
><em>_- Adam Lambert, US Magazine, May 2009_

http:/ www. youtube. com/watch?v=xJ4kj3r3mQY

* * *

><p>CHAPTER SIX<p>

They dropped Adam off at the door of the hotel alone, and sent the car around to the other side of the building to let Puck out on the sidewalk. "Go in the service entrance, there," said the security guard. "We'll have someone to meet you at the elevator."

Puck felt a little like a second-class citizen and a little like a spy, sneaking around like this, but he knew it wasn't because of anything Adam did or didn't like about him. It was just to protect their privacy, for both of them. He thought about getting hounded by cameras or reporters back in Lima, and shuddered. _Kurt would really hate that. _

He hovered a few moments in the kitchen, watching the chefs bustling around, prepping for lunch. "You like working here?" he asked one man wearing a chef's hat.

"Sure," he said, startled. "I mean, I don't get much time off, but it's pretty good pay."

"Noah," he heard, and looked up to see the young man from the hallway this morning - Tommy - glaring at him from the front of the kitchen. He gestured, and Noah waved at the chef before heading toward the door.

Tommy was short, maybe four inches shorter than Puck, and he didn't have anything on Adam in the presence department, but Puck still felt a little abashed at the annoyance he saw on his face. "Sorry," he said.

"He's waiting upstairs," Tommy said briefly, pointing at the service elevator.

"You're his guitarist?" Puck asked. He stepped to the back and waited while the doors closed.

"Bassist," Tommy corrected. He sighed, looking Puck up and down. "What are you, like, twenty years old?"

"Something like that," Puck said. He hesitated a moment before adding, "Does he do this a lot?"

"_No,"_ said Tommy emphatically. "And never before a performance. Ever. He's obsessive about getting good sleep and not partying before going on stage." His glare kicked up a notch. "Do you have any idea how important tonight is for his career? It's what he's been working toward for his whole adult life. It's the fucking _American Music Awards._"

Puck just shrugged. "I can't say I'm sorry," he said softly. "This wasn't something I expected, either - but it's huge, and I... I just can't apologize for that."

Tommy studied his face, then sighed again and grimaced. "I got it," he said. "He wouldn't be taking you to synagogue if it wasn't important."

The elevator slid open, and they both stepped out onto the sixth floor. "And we're not, like, partying," Puck said, as they paused outside Adam's door. "We're just... uh." He felt his face go a little red, but Tommy only nodded.

"You need a ride to the airport later?" Tommy asked, backing away down the hall.

"No," he said. "I'm staying here in town."

"Maybe we'll see you around, then." Tommy gave him a little wave. "Take care of him, kid."

That startled Puck. _Am I - taking care of him?_ he wondered.

He knocked on the door, and it opened almost immediately - and Adam was standing there, gazing down on him, eyes alight, mouth parted, and Puck just launched himself at him, hands on any bit of skin he could reach, touching, holding, desperate for more.

"Too many clothes," he said, and Adam chuckled.

They inched toward the bed, fingers working frantically at each other's buttons, and when Puck finally tucked his hands inside Adam's shirt, he groaned at the contact. "Please tell me we don't have to leave this room in the next three hours," he pleaded.

"At least," Adam affirmed. "I think I might commit bodily harm against anybody who tried to interrupt, and I'm a pacifist."

Puck laughed, feeling the joy bubble up like champagne, and shed Adam's borrowed shirt onto the floor. _Kurt would stop to pick it up and fold it,_ he thought, but Adam didn't seem to care, just let the shirt lay there in a crumpled heap, and allowed his own shirt and pants to join them there. Adam didn't seem shy about his own body, and here, in the light of day, it somehow seemed more real, less like a fantasy. He was still Adam - and, at the same time, he was _just_ Adam. Puck opened his mouth to say what he was feeling, but he found himself stymied; the words wouldn't come. He gazed at Adam helplessly.

Adam just shook his head, and ran his hands over Puck's shoulders and neck, making him shiver. "I know, honey," he mumured. "Right now, it's just us, here, together. Let's not worry about anything else."

"But that's just it," he said. He took Adam's hand down from behind his neck and traced the tattoos with his fingers: the Eye of Horus, the infinity symbol. "I _am_ right here - this is exactly what I want. There's nothing I'm missing." He shook his head in amazement. "Do you know how long it's been since I could say that?"

Adam's smile was a little sad. "It's been a long time for me, since I felt like this _mattered,"_ he said. "I guess I always knew it would be hard, to find it, if I was on the road - I'm not even sure of our schedule after New Year's."

"Maybe you can come visit," Puck suggested. His eyebrow quirked. "The, uh, age of consent in Ohio is sixteen."

Adam didn't bother to hide his shout of laughter. "God. You can bet my publicist is going to have a field day when she hears about you."

Puck ran his hands down Adam's back, to cup his ass through his boxers. "I can be your secret. I don't mind. Secrets are kind of hot."

"_You're_ kind of hot," Adam corrected. "No, there's no kind of about it." His fingers stroked down Puck's shoulders, to his triceps and down his forearms, and drew his hands around to link their fingers at their sides. "I'm completely smitten with you."

"Smitten?" Puck snorted, and Adam giggled adorably. "What kind of a word is that?"

Adam raised their linked arms and spun him around, sending him stumbling back. "Infatuated, besotted, obsessed." With one nudge, he caught Puck's knees on the edge of the bed and knocked him down, standing over him with a wide smile. "Enchanted. Crazy, gone, gaga." He moved inexorably closer, kneeling over Puck, his face coming down until their noses touched. "In love with."

Dizzy, Puck felt Adam's breath on his cheek, tinged with the scent of raspberry rugelach. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Adam said, and descended on his mouth. It was not any kind of chaste kiss, nothing Puck could call gentle - and precisely what he most craved. Adam ran a hand slowly down the side of his head and gave him a wicked smile.

"You should probably know," he said, "that I like it rough."

Puck chuckled, tipping his head back. "I think you know by now I'm okay with that."

He felt Adam's tongue, flicking along his throat, and his teeth marking a pathway of bites from his ear down to his collarbone, and his chuckle transformed into a moan. "You ready to let me take what I want?" Adam's hand replaced his mouth, holding him back onto the bed. "Tell me you want that, Noah."

"I do," he insisted, fighting against the pressure of the hand on his throat. "I want it - god, Adam, anything - everything -"

"Everything?" Adam's voice was soft and dangerous. "Can you handle it?"

He tried to nod, but that hand held him fast, and he could only choke out, "Yes, Adam."

The hand released him so fast he gasped, and had only a moment to recover before Adam's hand came down, a sharp retort against his backside, and he cried out, in reaction to the surprise more than the pain. His command hit Puck like a sledgehammer: "On your knees, then. Down here, on the floor."

He scrambled off the bed, not waiting to be told twice, while Adam swung his legs over the side to face him, his smile laced with anticipation. "I'm not asking, here," he said, one hand stroking himself slowly, deliberately, through his boxers. "I'll give you a chance to slow down, or stop, but the rest is up to me. Tell me now if this is a problem for you."

"No, Adam," Puck said, his head tipped up to watch him, alert for the subtle movements of his body, listening, waiting, breathing him in. "I'm ready."

He cupped Puck's chin in his hand, drawing him closer. "You may say _edge,_ if you're close to coming," he said. "I'm taking charge of that, now." He rested Puck's cheek against his thigh, and Puck felt the throb of his cock, so close to his face. "If you need to slow down, you may say _yellow,_ and if you want to stop, say _red._ I won't begin again, if you choose to say it, so be prepared for that. Do you understand, Noah?"

"Yes, Adam," he said, more quietly still, feeling himself slipping into that dream state, the place from which everything looked safe, and he could put himself in the hands of someone else entirely. "What can I do?"

"Well, that depends," said Adam, stroking Puck's mouth with a gentle thumb. "What's your agreement say about me fucking your mouth?"

"I - I'm not sure," Puck stammered, feeling a rush of blazing _want_ at the idea, while at the same time trying to think about his question through the haze of submission. "I think... whatever you think is okay." _Was that right?_ He couldn't be sure, but all he could do was gaze up at Adam, waiting for him to make the decision.

"This is a mildly risky behavior," Adam mused, "but I'm clean, honey, and I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, or your family. All the same... I wouldn't want you to compromise your agreement. Let's keep the fluid exchange to a minimum, shall we?"

Puck nodded, quickly, happy to oblige, and Adam smiled, secretive and sweet. "Then you can start with that beautiful mouth," he said, his voice thrilling as he stood, sliding his boxers down to his ankles. "Right here."

Puck let all his breath out in a happy sigh, and focused every bit of his attention on Adam: his scent, clean and strong; the smooth skin of his thighs; the pressure of him, deep in Puck's throat. He heard Adam's groan of approval, and for the first time in far too long, he felt proud of himself. _This, I can do,_ was his only thought. _This, for Adam. _

"Oh, honey," Adam said, in gravel-voiced astonishment. "You know _just_ what you're doing, don't you?"

Puck gave himself to the task of making Adam moan, pulling out every technique and trick he'd learned from Alex: the suction of his cheeks, his strong tongue, the friction of his lips and teeth. It was the sweetest work of his life, this act of service - because it was done for love. He let his own vocal cords vibrate, deep and rich, around Adam's cock, eliciting a gasp.

And then Adam was pushing him away, reluctantly. "You'd - better stop." He laughed, unsteady and trembling on his feet. "That's a little too good. I might not have the wherewithal to tell you again in a few minutes."

"Someday," Puck said, his own voice masked with desire. "Someday, I want to give you that. If - if Kurt says it's okay."

Adam's lids dropped lower, and he cupped Puck's face in both hands. "It would be my great pleasure," he said, gravely. "I would love to meet anyone for whom you feel such affection."

Puck closed his eyes on the wave of emotion that swept over him at the idea. "You'd be so welcome," he said, hoarsely. "God. I bet Kurt would fucking _love _you."

"We have time to plan that, another time," Adam said, stroking his cheek. "Right now, you're here for me." He guided him to his feet, with just a touch of his hand on Puck's chin, raising him up, and coaxed him deftly onto the bed. "And since you seemed to love it so much - I'll have you on all fours. _Now."_

Puck moved where Adam guided him, feeling the tingling thrill of anticipation, that deep fulfillment of desire that came from being on his knees for one of the people he loved so dearly. He knew he was giving of himself, letting Adam take something sacred from him, something he wanted desperately to give. The wanting to give, and the taking - together, they produced that unbelievable push and pull that made for the hottest, most memorable sex of his life. Again, he thought of Finn, and again, he marveled at how he wasn't cut to the quick by the thought.

"Yes, Adam," he said, leaning his head down on his folded arms, letting Adam's hands spread him wide. "Right now, I'm yours."

Adam's rolling laugh rippled over his skin like a heat wave, and paradoxically, Puck shivered. "Funny," said Adam, his voice light and amused. "I actually think you are."

Puck let himself get lost in that laugh, the sound of his voice, his noises of encouragement and wanting mingling with Puck's own, as Adam fingered him, giving it to him exactly the way he needed - deep and a little harsh and stroking that spot inside with unerring precision. "God," he cried, feeling a second, then a third finger join the first. "Adam - wait, it's too much - I'm -" Almost too late, he remembered the word Adam had given him, and he choked out, "_Edge."_

Adam stilled his fingers, but did not remove them. "You love this," he said, with clear admiration and satisfaction.

"Yes," Puck said, quivering, not arching back into that touch, as much as he wanted, _oh, _how he wanted... "I love it."

Adam's other hand traveled up his spine, dragging on the skin, until he reached his head, and he gripped the short wisps of Puck's hair tightly in his fingers and yanked his face back, raised to the sky. "You were made for this."

"Yes," Puck said again, begging, though he had no idea what for. "Yes, just this - please, Adam..."

"Please _what,"_ he purred, tugging harder. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No - _god_ no. Let me feel you, inside - your cock, please - "

"Mmmm," Adam said, with playful reluctance. "I don't know about that, honey - once I'm inside you, I'm going to want to fuck you _hard,_ and I'm not going to want to stop. And you're going to want to come, again, and again, and again..." He gave a final twist with his hand and let Puck's hair go, allowing his head to drop down. Puck's spine curved up, arching like a cat's, and he kept his arms firmly folded under his chin, not touching his own aching cock, which swung suspended between his legs.

He turned his head and watched Adam's hands deftly encasing his own cock in latex,and couldn't suppress his moan of desire. Adam's still fingers inside him were starting to make him ache, but Puck didn't care. "I want you so much," he whispered. "Please."

"Since you asked so nicely," Adam decided, reaching around his hips to grip Puck's cock in his hand, eliciting another moan, "I'm going to let you wear a cock ring. But you need to be - soft, in order to put it on. And you are definitely... not... soft." He stroked Puck's cock slowly, deliberately, and with absolute enjoyment, making a tut-tutting noise. "You're going to have to beg me."

"Adam, _please..."_ Puck bit his lip to keep from thrusting back, feeling the orgasm hovering just on the edge of his awareness, ready to overwhelm him at any moment.

"Be more specific, Noah," he said. "Just _what _are you needing, honey?"

Puck felt his defenses coming down, one right after the other, and the words streamed from his mouth like lava pouring down the side of a volcano. "I need to - please, let me... I _have_ to come, _Adam..._ god, _please!"_

"That's my good boy," Adam said, with equal amounts tenderness and desire, and the absence of his fingers inside him were tangibly painful for just a few seconds - but then the space was filled, more than filled, by Adam's cock, hot and pumping deep into him. It was the sweetest, most excruciating relief, and Puck cried out as he came. His cries were wordless, but the name ringing through his head was _Adam, my Adam. _

Puck reveled in the sensation of Adam's torso on the backs of his thighs as he leaned over him, deft hands slipping... _something_... around his cock, looping it around and behind his balls, and then pulling suddenly snug. He grunted in surprise, and Adam put a hand on his shoulder, leaning closer. "How does that feel?" he asked.

"Weird," Puck said, honestly, "but not bad." It wasn't, although the feeling of pressure, of the skin on his cock being stretched back so soon after coming, was a little intense - but then, there was nothing about this encounter that _wasn't_ intense.

"It'll keep you from coming again, until I take it off." Adam stroked circles on his back, chuckling. "But if I read you right, you might need to beg me again before I'm done here."

"You might... be right." Puck let his head hang loose between his shoulders, and his whole body quivered with reaction as Adam began to fuck him again.

"It's all right," Adam's voice said. Although his voice was soothing, his actions were anything but. "You'll be fine. You'll take what I'll give you."

"Yes, Adam," he said in a daze, and lost himself in the rhythm and slap of Adam's body against his.

Adam had not spoken untruthfully - his strokes were hard and quick, just as the spanking the night before had been, almost efficient, although _this_ activity looked like it might go on for a little while - and Puck found his pleasure carrying through as though on the crest of a wave. The orgasm had barely dampened his enthusiasm, but Adam had apparently deemed it irrelevant. _Adam, _he thought again, as though in a dream. _My Adam._

Apparently he'd spoken aloud, because Adam made an approving noise. "Yes... I like that. Say my name. Say it as loud as you like." He placed one firm hand in the middle of Puck's back and pressed him, hard, into the bed. "I'll make you scream it before we're done."

The sensation rolled over him, and he shook harder. "Adam - _Adam,"_ he said, quickly, not even bothering to hide the need in his voice. His arms, splayed wide under the heavy pressure of Adam's body, scrambled for a hold in the sheets. He balled his fists and hung on.

"Let me inside," Adam commanded, breathing hard. "Open up for me. You're the hottest thing I've ever seen, honey, and I want every bit of you - your body, your heart, your mind. Your soul."

"Adam," he moaned louder. Puck could feel himself being changed from the inside out, by Adam's words, by the slick, sharp intensity of his cock fucking him, by the love and heat generated by the two of them, here, together. It went on and on, almost longer than Puck could believe.

_God,_ he thought suddenly, almost in a panic, _how am I going to live without this?_ The bed was wet under his cheek. "Adam..."

"Don't worry," Adam said again. The tenderness in his voice cut him deep. "I'm the one in charge here. You just take what I'm giving you - pain and pleasure. All of it. That's all you have to do."

_That's all,_ Puck thought, and at that moment, crushed by Adam's body into the hotel bed, already sore, nerves raw, he felt unbelievably, entirely _free. _

Adam's pace changed, driven by his own need, and impossibly, Puck felt himself responding, like a mirror to Adam's breathless thrusts. "Please, now, _edge,_ Adam - now," he heard himself groan, and immediately Adam's hand was between his legs, releasing the buckle with one quick tug.

"Go ahead, Noah," Adam urged, and his own wordless growls ripped the orgasm out of Puck, like his own beating heart, and he shouted Adam's name, over and over.

Adam collapsed onto him, and Puck was flattened into the mattress, sopping with sweat and come and tears. It felt fantastic.

"God," he said, in a small voice, and started to cry.

"We're okay," Adam said, lifting up on shaky arms long enough to roll Puck over, and tucked him into his embrace. "We're going to be okay."

Puck's heaving sobs rocked him, and he realized after a time that Adam was crying, too, murmuring, "It's all right, you're okay, don't worry."

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too," Adam said. "Every bit of you. You gave me just what I needed." He gathered him tighter, crushing Puck to his chest. "Such a good boy."

Puck squeezed his eyes tight as Adam's words penetrated, as surely as his body had done just moments before. "I need _this."_

"I know." Adam nodded understanding, his cheek soft on Puck's shaved head. "I do, too."

The tears were done now, but he could still feel the question crying inside him, alongside the delicious ache that had been satisfied so entirely. "What are we going to do?"

Adam pulled back until Puck met his eyes. "We are going to appreciate what we have," he said. "Because it's a hell of a lot. And you're going to get used to occasional visits from your out-of-town lover." He stroked Puck's face, smiling, his own eyes shining with tears. "And you're going to go home to your family, and tell _them_ what you want, and what you need. You deserve it."

"I do?" He could almost believe what he was hearing, here, in this moment, and he hungered for it, clutched at it as desperately as he had hung on to the sheets. "Really?"

"Yes." Adam's certainty was a warm cloak around his shoulders, and he felt a flush of relief. He kissed him suddenly, gentle and loving, and relaxed into the feeling of utter, sticky, sweaty completion.

"Shower?" he said, and Adam chuckled.

"In a minute. Just let me hold you here for a little bit longer."

He wasn't going to complain.

* * *

><p><em>Are we ready right now?<br>__I don't know somehow  
><em>_It feels so right  
><em>_It's time for our flight  
><em>_How will we know?  
><em>_When to go  
><em>_How will we find  
><em>_All the time?_

_- Adam Lambert, "Hourglass"_


	7. Chapter 7

_Falling in love was major. It changed everything, because up until then... I felt like there was a part of me that was like, "I don't understand something about life, like a big thing." I listened to these songs on the radio or CDs or I'd see these musicals about people being in love with each other and what that feels like and what heartbreak feels like and the joy of what love is and I had sex but I'd never been in love and just didn't get it. It was really interesting because during and after that relationship, everything changes. It's like, "Oh, that's what they were talking about." I thought that was so corny before and now I am crying because I totally identify with what that feels like. So that was a big turning point for personal growth.  
><em>_- Adam Lambert, interview with Fred Bronson, August 2009_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER SEVEN<p>

Adam was cheerful and chatty in the shower afterwards, but Puck didn't know him well enough to be sure if that was actually how he was feeling or if he was just trying to keep the mood light. He talked about the music awards coming up that evening, and his band, and the dancers they'd hired just that week to dance in his music video. "It's hot," he said, smiling wickedly at Puck, the spray from the shower soaking his hair. "You're going to love it."

"No doubt," Puck grinned back. He passed the soap to Adam and switched places with him, taking his turn under the water. "Is there a snake in it?"

"A snake?" Adam looked perplexed.

"Sure. Every sexy music video needs a snake. It's, like, a rule."

Adam considered this, running his hands over Puck's back. "Huh. I think I could do something about that."

The sense of unreality was heavy on Puck as he dried off, leaving Adam to soak in the shower a little longer. The hotel bathroom was far too fancy, every detail unfamiliar. He hadn't even brought his toothbrush. The only thing he had with him that belonged to him, aside from the clothes he'd worn there, was his guitar. He slowly pulled on his shorts and jeans, feeling the ache deep inside to match the bruises on his backside, and wondered if he'd still feel either one by the time he made it back to Ohio. He hoped he would.

When Adam came out from the bathroom, toweling his hair dry, Puck was on the sofa, playing random chord progressions. He gave Adam a faint smile and paused to hand Adam the CD he'd given him the night before. "I realized that I wouldn't have anything to tell me I hadn't just imagined the whole thing, after I left," he said. "Do you think you could sign this?"

Adam's face went soft, and he touched Puck's head with tender care. "Of course," he said, draping the towel over the back of the sofa. He dug in the box on the counter and came up with a purple permanent marker. "I can do that."

Puck let the chords drift into Kurt's melody, and he hummed along. He wondered if Kurt had ever mentioned Adam to him before. The thought was a little strange, but somehow he suspected Kurt knew who he was. _Out, gay, sparkly singer. Yeah - that's for Kurt. _ "Can you put Kurt's name, too?" he asked.

"Hmm," Adam said, surveying what he'd written, and chuckled. "I imagine he'd be a little confused if I said _this_ to him, seeing as how we've never even met." But he scribbled something else on the booklet of the CD and handed it back to Puck.

_For Noah, who reminded me why the music matters, and gave me the greatest gift a man can receive. Just remember you are not alone in the aftermath. Love, always – Adam._

_Kurt – take a step and fall into the glitter – Adam._

"God," said Puck, stubbornly refusing to give into the tears that threatened to fall. "The two of you are going to be _ridiculous _together."

"Oh, yeah?" Adam smiled, sitting next to him on the sofa. Puck gave an emphatic nod.

"_Way_ too much sparkly shit. I'm serious. I'm gonna have to wear sunglasses or something."

Adam's laughter was as bright as his smile. He nudged Puck's foot. "You've got that guitar out for a reason? Who's making music for whom here?"

"No particular reason." He strummed the chords of Kurt's melody, letting them settle into him, feeling the way they hit him a little differently now. "I like to play when I'm feeling nervous."

"Do I make you nervous?"

"No," Puck said, "no, it's not you. It's me." The words filtered through the music, through himself, and he struggled to make sense of them. "I'm… going back to the way things were, back in Ohio. They're going to be the same as they were when I left. Everything's still fucked up. But _I'm_ different. I'm… changed, somehow. You know?" He put a hand on Adam's knee. "You did that."

Adam gazed at him solemnly. "I think we did it together, honey."

"Yeah," Puck said, equally solemn. He cocked his head. "Do you feel different, too?"

Adam looked away for a moment, and Puck watched a whole host of emotions flicker over his face – sadness, and resignation, and a hint of bitterness. "I do," he finally said. "I'm having a little trouble with it, actually."

Puck watched him in silence. Then he said, "Want to sing me something from your CD? I'm a little curious to hear what's on it, but I wasn't sure if that would be totally weird, playing your CD with you right here."

"Why don't you save that for after you go home," he said, his smile faint. "But yes, I'll sing for you. I've got just the song. Capo 3."

Adam sorted through his music and pulled out the tablature, laying it out on the coffee table in front of Puck. "This one's about the love you have for yourself," he said. He walked Puck through the chord changes, noting tempo changes and pauses. Puck felt the intimacy of his gaze as he began:

_http__:/ __www__. __youtube__. __com__/__watch__?__v__PRDBa__8__uP__0__z__4_

_Have you lost your way  
><em>_Living in the shadow of the messes that you made  
><em>_And so it goes  
><em>_Everything inside your circle starts to overflow_

_Take a step before you leap  
><em>_Into the colors that you seek  
><em>_You'll get back what you give away  
><em>_So don't look back on yesterday_

_Wanna scream out  
><em>_No more hiding  
><em>_Don't be afraid of what's inside  
><em>_Gonna tell ya you'll be all right  
><em>_In the aftermath_

_Anytime anybody pulls you down  
><em>_Anytime anybody says you're not allowed  
><em>_Just remember you are not alone  
><em>_In the aftermath_

Adam's effortless voice, soaring up to the high notes, took his breath away, and he felt a sense of anxiety he hadn't expected at Adam singing to him today. _Yeah, I'll be all right. Doesn't mean I have to like it. _He just wanted to lose himself in Adam, to forget all the other responsibilities and promises and people in his life, and immerse himself in the world of hotels and music and hot sex and everything Adam had become for him. But Adam's steady gaze, boring into him, gave him a reason, if not an inclination, to claim those responsibilities and do something about them.

_You feel the weight  
><em>_Of lies and contradictions that you live with every day  
><em>_It's not too late  
><em>_Think of what can be if you rewrite the role you play  
><em>

_Before you break you have to shed your armor  
><em>_Take a trip and fall into the glitter  
><em>_Tell a stranger that they're beautiful  
><em>_So all you feel is love, love  
><em>_All you feel is love, love_

Adam's hand came up and touched his cheek, and Puck stopped playing for a moment, letting himself _feel_ that. _All you feel is love._

"You _are _beautiful," Adam said.

"I'm not a fucking stranger," Puck observed, and Adam smiled.

"No," he agreed. "Not anymore." He gathered up the music and stacked it neatly.

"Hey, I wasn't done," Puck said. "There was another chorus."

"Honey, you can hear it any time you want. The CD version's a little more polished, but it's pretty much the same." He shook his head, grinning. "Really, though, I think you're going to like the title track best. It might feel a little... familiar."

Puck grinned back. "I kind of felt that already, with the first two you sang. Holy shit. It's like the songwriter got into my head and wrote it all down."

"Seriously, I know," Adam effused, in such a Kurt-like expression that Puck had to pause and blink a bit to clear his head. "I swear, I'm going to call Alecia up - Pink - and tell her about this weekend, just so she'll know how her songs seem to be running parallel to my life. Glitter in the Air? Totally not even written for me, but somehow, it _was."_

Then Adam reached out and touched Puck's guitar. "I'd like you to sing something for me, now. We only have a few more minutes. Would you give me a song to hold in my heart, before I have to get on that plane?"

Puck nodded. "Sure. Are you nervous about the performance?"

"Honestly? Not really. I like performing; it's fun. I pretty much throw myself into whatever it is I'm doing, if you hadn't already figured that out."

"I can relate," Puck said, stroking the curved body of his Taylor. "Well... okay. Here's one I was going to sing in Glee before leaving town, but I never got to perform it. My mom died, and everything had gone to shit, and I just figured I'd forget it. It's a Gershwin song. You know him?"

"Noah," Adam said, patiently. "I've done professional musical theater since I was ten. And I'm _gay._ Yes, I know Gershwin."

"Really? You did, like, musicals and stuff?" Puck was arrested by the idea. "What did you do?"

"Hmmm," Adam said, peering at him from black-lined eyes. "Some shows you wouldn't have heard of. _Finian's Rainbow, _back when I was only a little older than you, right after I quit college. _Hair - _I toured with that show in Europe."

"No kidding," Puck said, laughing, leaning on his guitar. "Our show choir director had us do a mashup of Crazy in Love and Hair. We wore wigs and everything. It was pretty awful."

"Oh, dear," Adam said, his eyebrows expressive. "Hmmm. Show choir... really?"

"Yes, really," Puck insisted. "Glee is awesome. We went to nationals last year. You can see us on Youtube."

Adam looked bemused. "I'll look for it. I did a terrible musical with Val Kilmer called _The Ten Commandments,_ in LA. And I understudied Fiyero in _Wicked."_ Adam grinned. "You can find _me_ on Youtube, too."

"_Wicked_ - holy shit, really?" He looked incredulous, and Adam nodded affirmation. "Kurt sang that one song... Defying Gravity. He can totally do all those girl songs."

"I'd love to hear it someday," said Adam. "But right now, I want to hear _you_. You've got a fabulous voice, you know. Which Gershwin have you selected just for me, Noah?"

"Uh," said Puck, his ears burning, and began.

http:/ www. youtube. com/watch?v=-u4rNY4f5tE (with wrong pronouns, oh well)

_There's a saying old, says that love is blind  
><em>_Still we're often told, "Seek and ye shall find,"  
><em>_So I'm going to seek a certain guy I've had in mind  
><em>

_Looking everywhere, haven't found him yet  
><em>_He's the big affair I cannot forget  
><em>_Only man I ever think of with regret_

_I'd like to add his initials to my monogram  
><em>_Tell me, where's the shepherd for this lost lamb_

Puck had spent the weekend avoiding looking at Adam too closely while he played the guitar, for fear of getting too caught up in the music and losing track of the guitar part, but now he found his eyes wide and blinking as he sang to him, pulled to Adam as though by an invisible tether, unable to look away.

_There's a somebody I'm longing to see  
><em>_I hope that he turns out to be  
><em>_Someone who'll watch over me  
><em>

_I'm a little lamb who's lost in a wood  
><em>_I know I could always be good  
><em>_To one who'll watch over me_

Adam looked a little floored by the line about the little lamb, and his eyes filled and spilled over as soon as Puck said the words "always be good," but Puck steadfastly kept his gaze on him, refusing to let his voice waver, even on the high notes.

_Although he may not be the man that some think of as handsome  
><em>_to my heart he carries the key  
><em>_Won't you tell him please to put on some speed  
><em>_Follow my lead, oh how I need  
><em>_Someone to watch over me_

_He may be far, he may be nearby  
><em>_I'm promising hereby  
><em>_To my heart he'll carry the key_

_And this world would be like heaven if he'd  
><em>_Follow my lead, oh how I need  
><em>_Someone to watch over me_

"Someone to watch -" he sang, and choked on the last line. Adam reached out and put a hand on his, on the guitar, lifted it smoothly away and laid it to the side, with precise care. Then he pulled Puck in, onto his lap, tucking him into his chest and wrapping him up, warm, safe and protected.

"God," Puck cried, bent nearly double in pain. "Oh, god, I miss him... I miss him so _fucking _much."

"I'm sure he misses you, honey," Adam said quietly, rocking him every so slightly. "You're a lot to give up." His hand on Puck's shoulders cradled him closer. "Shhh. It's okay. I've got you."

Puck shook his head in a panic. "Are you sure... are you sure I didn't just dream you?" He reached out a pleading hand to Adam's face, just inches from his own, but even the touch wasn't enough to reassure him. "Because you're going to _leave_, you're just going to _fly away_ back to California_,_ and I'm going back to fucking _Ohio._ And I'm going to be alone, _again."_

"No. Honey, _no._ You're not." Adam's calm, firm voice cut through his miasma of despair. It was nothing like Finn's, and yet, in a way, it was. "You're not going to be alone. Kurt is there, remember? And all your other lovers, they'll say the same thing. No matter where you are, we love you. Didn't Alex tell you that?"

He just settled himself closer to Adam and did what he'd done during Adam's song: let himself _feel._ Adam was giving him just what he needed, and he was going to soak up every bit of it before... before he had to...

"It's going to be okay, Noah," Adam said, still calm, still sure, but Puck could feel the tears dripping off Adam's face and onto his neck, sliding down under his collar.

"I need this," Puck admitted. "I need it from you. And I don't think I can get it over the phone."

Adam smiled. "I travel all over the country, Noah. I suspect, though I can't be sure when, I'll be coming through Ohio at some point."

Puck felt a stab of hope. "Really? You really think...?"

"I know it. And you can get on a plane, too, right?"

Puck felt absurdly delighted at this idea. He'd never been a plane in his life. "I could," he said, "but seriously, there's no way I could afford to fly out to you."

"Honey," Adam said, shaking his head. "I'm not thinking about _money_. I want to give you what you need." He backed away far enough to gather Puck's hands in his, like he was holding a bouquet of flowers. Holding them just under his chin, he kissed each hand, maintaining eye contact. Puck could feel the tension snapping between them like a rubber band.

"I know I'm not Finn," he began.

Puck shook his head. "I don't _want_ you to be Finn," he protested.

"Let me finish." He waited for Puck to subside. Tension infiltrated his words. "If I could be that, for you, would you accept it from me?"

"Be what?"

"Someone to watch over you," Adam said quietly, his sapphire gaze intense.

Puck tried to look away, but one word - _"Noah..."_ - from Adam stopped him, and he was caught, frozen in place.

"I'll have an answer from you, young man, yes or no," he said severely.

"Yes," he whispered.

Adam made a tiny noise, but didn't break his hold on Puck's eyes. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, _Adam,"_ Puck said, his voice cracking, and then he was crying again, the tears falling in a great wash of relief. Adam gathered him up again, holding him steady, letting him rock like a boat on the flood of his tears. He would not be washed away. _He would not._ Adam had given him a way to save _himself._

"That's good, that's very good," murmured Adam. "Such a good boy. Yes... I can do that for you."

And Puck knew, he _knew,_ that Adam would. He trusted him, somehow, as much as he'd ever trusted anyone, even in the face of impossible odds. He was ready to take a flying leap of faith.

"Okay," he said, scrubbing his face with his hand, "okay, I'm fucking _done_ with these tears. This is ridiculous."

"You had a lot of days of _not_ crying to make up for," Adam demurred. "It's all part of the process. You're doing just what you need to do, honey. Don't be hard on yourself for that." But he extracted himself from under Puck's lap, leaving him on the sofa, and returned quickly with a glass of water, a warm washcloth and a towel.

"Drink first," he said, and Puck swallowed every drop. Then he carefully washed Puck's face with the warm washcloth. Puck relaxed into the soft terry cloth and Adam's touch.

"This is sudden," Adam said, his voice as gentle as his hands. "So I know we'll both have some thinking to do. But I have a few rules. Are you ready to hear them?"

"Yes, Adam," Puck said.

"No matter what's happening, no matter where you are, or who you're with, you'll call me before you go to bed. Every night, just a call to make contact. Chances are you won't always reach me, but you can leave a message on my phone. All right?"

The stroke of the washcloth was putting him into a kind of sleepy stupor. "Yes, Adam," he said again.

"Good. Second... you'll go to synagogue, at home, at least once more before the end of your mourning period. Recite the Kaddish for your mother. Make that connection to your own community." His hand brushed over Puck's hair. "Invite your brother and sister."

"Okay."

Adam picked up the towel and dried his face. It was remarkably tender, and Puck wasn't sure he'd ever been touched with such sweet attention. _I didn't even know I wanted that,_ he thought in amazement. _Needed that._

"Third... and this one's more of a request, though if I could make you do it, I would." He smoothed Puck's skin with his hand, catching his gaze again. "When you're feeling... lost. Remember I love you. Always."

Puck tried to respond, but couldn't, and ended up just nodding. That seemed to be enough for Adam. He kissed him, lips soft, and hugged him briefly. "Good. That makes me very happy."

Adam did sound happy, even if his face was grave, and Puck was glad for it. While Puck put away his guitar, Adam called down to security to send over the airport shuttle. Puck tucked the CD carefully into his jacket pocket. When Adam came to the door, Puck was waiting for him.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

He took a single, slow breath. _Trusted, just trusted._ "Yeah," he said. "I think so."

"All right," he said. "I probably shouldn't come down with you, so I'll say goodbye here." He held out one hand, and Puck took it. "You'll watch the AMAs tonight?"

"Yeah," he said again. "We'll all watch."

"It'll be for you," Adam said. His gaze flickered away momentarily. "I think most everything I perform will be for you, from now on."

"It won't always be that way," Puck said. "There'll be... you'll meet other guys. And that's okay with me."

"I know, honey." Adam squeezed Puck's hand. "And if I do, please know that doesn't mean things will change between us, either. I can still be this, for you, no matter what."

Puck swallowed, once. _No more tears,_ he reminded himself. "Thank you."

"It's my complete, absolute pleasure," Adam said. "I mean that."

He leaned in, took Puck's face in both hands, and kissed him. Puck tried to remember all the parts of this kiss, like a puzzle memory - the touch of his lips, the smell of his skin, the brush of Adam's hair against his face, the taste of his tongue. The sight of him, smiling his impossibly angelic smile.

"I don't have any pictures of you," he realized suddenly.

"We can fix that," Adam said. "Come on."

They walked out in the hallway together, which was stacked with equipment, instruments and suitcases. The crew and musicians walking by were determinedly _not_ watching Adam and Puck, focused on getting things ready to go, but Adam put out a hand and stopped Tommy on his way by.

"Can you take a picture of us?" he said, and Tommy rolled his eyes.

"You really trust this kid?" he asked, giving him a dubious stare.

"Yes," Adam said definitively. He gathered Puck in front of him, holding him in his arms, resting his head on Puck's shoulder. "This good?" he asked Puck softly.

"Yeah," he said, feeling a stupid smile escape, and glanced up at Adam over his shoulder just as Tommy snapped the picture.

"We've got to get going," Tommy said to Adam as he handed the phone back. To Puck, he glared once more and said, "That stays _off_ the Internet, got it?"

"Hell, yeah," Puck said, offended. "Who do you think I am?"

"I have no fucking idea," Tommy said, "but somehow I think I'm going to hear a _lot_ about you in the next few days." He looked at Adam in stony resignation. "You're in love, aren't you?"

Adam turned Puck around to face him, one hand under his chin. "Am I?" he asked Puck.

"Yes, Adam," Puck said, and smiled.

* * *

><p><em>So it would appear<br>__I left my heart here  
><em>_And it would be fair to say  
><em>_I've been swept away  
><em>_So move in right along  
><em>_For you I wrote this song  
><em>_If I'm a fool  
><em>_So this fool will never be with you_

_- Adam Lambert, "Wonderful"_


	8. Chapter 8

_(Author's note: two important points that have been mentioned by caring, thoughtful readers. One is that it was brought to my attention that it is impossible for the passage about Noah to have been read during Hanukkah, because of the nature of the Jewish liturgical year. I appreciate the reader who mentioned this, because I will certainly use it when writing Rachel and Sarah (and Frances') visit to the synagogue coming up in Archer's Hand. I beg latitude from my knowledgeable readers to allow me this quirk in the story, just as I've conveniently juggled the AMAs to December in order to make the Archer's Hand timeline work._

_Second, and I can't believe I missed this - Puck said in the last chapter that Glee went to nationals last year and that Adam could see them on Youtube. Well, NO, because there was no Glee, this being SEASON FRICKING ONE. Whoops. I'll have to rewrite that scene a bit. Thank you._

_Enjoy Puck's return to the House of the Ampersand. -amy)_

* * *

><p><em>I think the whole magic of this moment is that I'm not alienating anybody. I'm not trying to anyway. I want as many people to feel like they can like the music. I don't want to edit myself to the point where I feel like I don't have integrity. But at the same time, I feel like I don't want to alienate people, so it's really hard. It's almost like being a political figure. It's like a balancing act. I feel really good about how open I've been, 'cause I really don't feel like I've hidden anything.<em>

_- Adam Lambert, OUT Magazine, November 2009_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER EIGHT<p>

The truck was barely warmed up before he slid the CD into the player, settling the signed booklet on the dashboard, so Adam's ridiculous, sparkly picture was gazing dreamily out at him. "Hi," he said to the picture. "Have a good flight."

There was the sound of synthesizers, a driving beat - and then, even though he knew to expect it, he was a little shocked when he heard Adam's strong voice streaming out of the speakers:

http:/www. youtube. com/watch?v=N1Yy0yeMIVI

_I want your body, mind, soul, et cetera  
><em>_And one day you will see, you should give it to me  
><em>_And I don't want anyone instead of you  
><em>_Oh babe I'm going crazy, come on and give it to me  
><em>_And I ain't never met nobody better  
><em>_You're someone else's baby_

_I'm so sick of living for other people  
><em>_Took meeting you to realize  
><em>_I don't wanna lose ya, I wanna keep ya  
><em>_Put your little hand in mine and look into my eyes, baby, eyes  
><em>_Oh, you make me wanna listen to music again_

The first song carried him across town, a smile firmly planted on his face. The second... the lyrics stopped him in his tracks. It was a good thing he was close to the shoulder, because he might have driven off the road otherwise. He pulled over in a hurry and sat there, shaking, eyes wide, as Adam fucking _Topped him_ over the _radio._

_http__:/ __www__. __youtube__. __com__/__watch__?__v__kHYb__3__GRgSWI_

_So hot out of the box  
><em>_Can we pick up the pace  
><em>_Turn it up, heat it up  
><em>_I need to be entertained  
><em>_Push the limit, are you with it?  
><em>_Baby, don't be afraid  
><em>_Imma hurt you real good, baby_

_Let's go, it's my show, baby, do what I say  
><em>_Don't trip off the glitz that I'm gonna display  
><em>_I told you, Imma hold ya down until you're amazed  
><em>_Give it to ya til you're screamin' my name_

_No escaping when I start  
><em>_Once I'm in I own your heart  
><em>_There's no way to ring the alarm  
><em>_So hold on until it's over_

_Do you know what you got into  
><em>_Can you handle what I'm 'bout to do  
><em>_'Cause it's about to get rough for you  
><em>_I'm here for your entertainment  
><em>_I bet you thought that I was soft and sweet  
><em>_You thought an angel swept you off your feet  
><em>_But I'm about to turn up the heat  
><em>_I'm here for your entertainment_

_It's all right  
><em>_You'll be fine  
><em>_Baby, I'm in control  
><em>_Take the pain  
><em>_Take the pleasure  
><em>_I'm the master of both  
><em>_Close your eyes, not your mind  
><em>_Let me into your soul  
><em>_I'm gonna work it 'til you're totally blown_

_Do you like what you see?  
><em>_Let me entertain you 'til you scream_

"God," he moaned, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. He was sweating, and he couldn't catch his breath, and he was so hard he thought he might break. "Holy fuck."

He turned off the CD and sat in the silent truck, idling there, until he could be sure he could drive again. Then he called the House of the Ampersand.

"Hey," said Nicole, picking up. "You guys taking a break? I didn't expect to hear back from you this soon."

"He had to leave town," Puck said. "I'm coming back to your house. I need something to eat. And drink. A _big _drink. And somebody to sit with me and remind me I'm not insane."

"Sorry, no can do that last one," Nicole said cheerfully. "But I'll listen to you tell me all about your new guy. I've been watching videos of him on Youtube all night. Did you know he did an interview with OUT Magazine a couple weeks ago?" She sounded admiring. "Holy shit. He's incredible."

"You have no fucking idea," Puck said fervently. "I'll see you in ten minutes. And get your CD player ready."

* * *

><p>Nicole and Daphne stayed with him for the hour it took to listen to the entire CD, from start to finish, Puck quivering through most of it, giving him comfort in the ways they knew best. They were mostly naked and entwined and breathless by the end.<p>

"I liked that one about the aftermath," said Daphne, her blonde hair spread out over Puck's abdomen. She stroked his skin absently. "He sounded so sincere."

"He sang me that one," said Puck, and they both made appropriate exclaiming noises. "And the third one."

"I remember that one from the coffee shop," Nicole said, her arms around her bare knees. "Except the way he sang it there was more gentle. Here on the album he's almost angry."

"He never seemed angry with me." Puck thought of the one time Adam had, in the restaurant, when he'd mentioned his Ma's ultimatum. "Maybe a little protective."

"That goes with the territory," Daphne said, smiling up at him. "All that discipline, the rough sex, and not one iota of anger. Pretty amazing, when you think of it."

"No, no way," Puck said, propping himself up on his elbows. "Not angry. He was... _nice._ Like Kurt... but, uh. Calmer. And kinkier." He shivered. "To hear him talk about it, he didn't have any more experience than we did when we started. But he sure seemed like he did."

"Maybe he did that stuff, but it wasn't ever more than play, for him," Nicole pointed out. "A lot of people do that, you know. They don't live it - it's just another fun thing to try."

Puck nodded slowly. "He did say something about that. That it had just been a game, before. Hot, but something to put on and take off, like a costume. I... don't think I can do that."

"No, but sometimes you can do without it." Daphne crept up beside him until their noses were touching. "Sometimes it can just be two people, connecting."

"Or three," he said, with a grin, and kissed her.

"Sometimes you switch, right?" Nicole added. "You said, you and Kurt."

"Once." Puck remembered that afternoon with startling clarity, when Kurt's day had been so bad, and he and Finn had come home to find him alone and hurting. Finn had disciplined Kurt for running away, and then left him in Puck's hands. He remembered Kurt's need, how it had driven him. Puck had known what to do, had let it come from deep inside himself, the heat and the control. Over it all had been the desire to take care of Kurt, to make him feel loved, and to give him what he needed. "I don't know how often I'm going to want to do that, but it was pretty fucking awesome."

"So you understand what Adam gets out of it," she said.

"Sure. Of course." Hearing Adam's name, spoken on someone else's lips, was still a little raw, when he recalled the multitude of times he'd said it, whispered it, shouted it himself over the course of the weekend. He sighed heavily and leaned on Daphne's shoulder. "I guess it had been a while, since I really... _let go. _Finn and me, there was that lie, hovering between us for so long... and last week, with my Ma, and Sectionals, and _everything..._ and being here with you this week, with Alex telling me to wait. I wonder..." He sat up suddenly. "Do you think Alex _knew_ what was going to happen with Adam? You know, the way he _knows_ things."

"Maybe," Daphne said, shrugging. "You could ask him when he gets home, but you know he doesn't always say."

Nicole crawled to the edge of the bed, and hesitated before snagging her laptop and bringing it up to Puck's lap. She and Daphne flanked him, leaning up against the headboard, the three of them looking at Nicole's screen with curiosity. "I'm not sure if you want to hear this," she said.

"That sounds a little freaky," Puck said. "What is it?"

"Adam singing an love song from the musical _Finian's Rainbow," _she said.

"Did he suck?" Daphne asked.

"No way," Puck said crossly, waiting impatiently for the video to load. "I'm sure he didn't."

"Just listen," said Nicole.

http:/ www. youtube. com/watch?v=DJYyqzUr6jU

It was a slide show of pictures. The first shot of a younger Adam, leaning in to the camera, made up pretty, felt like a blow to the stomach. "God," he groaned, hiding his eyes. But then he _heard_ the voice coming out of the tinny speakers of Nicole's laptop, and he just tilted his head back and let it wash over him.

"_That's_... Adam?" Daphne said, awed.

"That's Adam," Nicole nodded.

"He's so _sweet."_ Daphne was touching the screen, watching each smiling image of Adam go by, and Puck had to look away again in a hurry.

When Adam floated the high note, effortlessly, and made it go on forever, and ever, and - _longer_ than forever, and then _continued _singing... and went on and held the _next _note... "How does he _do_ that?" Nicole said, perplexed. "Does he have, like, an extra fucking _lung?"_

The last glistening sound of Adam's miraculous voice hung in the air. And then the applause of that long-ago audience reminded Puck that other people had already heard Adam sing that song, that thousands of people had heard him sing at shows, all his life - and that in a few hours, millions more would hear him performing live. _For me,_ he thought, and for a minute he felt so dizzy that he wanted to sit down. Then he realized he _was_ sitting down.

"There's more," said Nicole, and Puck whipped his head around to her in desperation. She raised her hands in mock defense. "What? He's had years and years of public performances, even before Idol. This one is him in Wicked, playing the male lead, opposite the Wicked Witch." Her grin was smug. "He plays a very convincing heterosexual, I must say."

http:/ www. youtube. com/watch?v=kHVskxMEuiw

Puck watched with undisguised fascination as Adam in stage makeup - _no eyeliner,_ he thought, randomly, _or barely any, at all_ - knelt on the stage in front of the green-skinned woman, giving her bedroom eyes and caressing her cheeks. And then he was singing, his voice carrying across the bad recording to touch Puck, digging under his skin, making him gasp. _I'm going to watch this every fucking day,_ he thought, dazed.

"You haven't even _seen_ him on Idol, have you?" Nicole said, shaking her head. "Here. I'm going to leave this with you. All the links are there on the side. It's going to take you a while." She slid out of bed and walked, naked, to the kitchen. "I'll get you some tea."

Puck hunched over the laptop, watching clip after clip until his back was stiff from sitting in that one overwhelmed position, drinking in the sight and sound of Adam laughing, talking, singing, competing. Even though he knew all those moments had happened months ago, just as the performances had, they hit him differently, cut deeper, because they were Adam's _real_ life, and he was not part of them - and would still not be part of the ones in the future.

"Oh, KISS," Daphne exclaimed, listening to Adam sing a song called "Beth." "I loved this song."

"Huh," said Puck, listening. "I'll have to check it out. They're the guys with the crazy makeup, right?"

Eventually it all started to blur together, and Puck had to shut the laptop and take a deep breath. He stretched his stiff legs and set the laptop on the floor. "My god," he groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Is there _anything_ he can't do?"

"He seems like an amazing person," Daphne said.

"Yeah," he said. He curled up on the pillow next to her, feeling as far away from this place as he had when he'd approached it from the highway a week ago. "There's just so much about his life. Stuff that has nothing to do with me. All that American Idol, the theatre... his album..."

"Give him some time, honey," said Nicole. "I don't think you can expect to know all those things right away. You just met him _yesterday."_

_Yesterday I think I was a different person._ Puck lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if it was too early to call Adam, and if he wouldn't seem too much like a needy kid if he did. He glanced over at the clock. 6:20. "I think I need a nap," he said.

"I'll wake you up in time for the performance." Nicole reached over to take Daphne's hand and tugged her off the bed. "Sleep well." She turned off the light on her way out the door.

Puck lay there in the dark, thinking of his phone in his pocket, but he knew Adam would be rehearsing, setting up, talking with God knows who else. All the important people in his life. He picked up the CD case and examined it. Adam didn't even look like himself in that picture. _What the hell did they do to his hair?_ he snorted.

"You're much hotter in person," he said to the picture.

Then he did lean over the bed and snag his jeans, pulling the phone out of his pocket, and brought up the picture that Tommy had taken of him and Adam. It was a little surprising to see the expression on his own face. _I really can't show this to anyone,_ he thought with dismay. _I look like a fucking lovesick puppy. _

So then his phone was just right there, and he knew he wasn't going to get through, but he dialed the number Adam had given him anyway. The voice mail prompt was generic; no recorded voice of Adam telling him to leave a message. After the tone sounded, he paused for longer than he should have, and then finally cleared his throat. "Uh... hi. It's me. Noah?" The name sounded strange in his ears. "I'm... well, I was just watching some videos of you on Youtube. The ones you were telling me about, when you were in those musicals. I wanted you to know, you sounded good." _God, this was worse than not calling. _He felt himself getting more tense, hating his awkwardness, but he gritted his teeth and moved forward. "I hope things go well tonight. Uh, or maybe they already did, if you don't hear this message until... never mind. I, uh." He closed his eyes. "I miss you," he whispered.

He hung up, and threw his phone on the floor. "Fuck," he groaned.

Then he scrambled off the bed, searching in the dark for his phone again, and this time he called Kurt. He sat on his hand to keep himself from hanging up, repeating again and again: _Don't hate me. Please don't hate me. Please..._

There was a click, and a fumbling sound, and Kurt's gasping voice said, "N-Noah?"

_God. I'm fucked. _"It's me."

"I can't believe... are you okay?" Kurt was anxious, above all else. "Tell me you're okay."

"I'm okay," he said. "I'm... well, I'm a lot of things, but I'm okay."

"Your mother," said Kurt. "I'm so, so sorry."

The tightening in his stomach was not so awful as it had been. "Thanks. I'm dealing. You know she wasn't so much to me."

"That's not true. No matter what was going on between you, she's still your mother. I know what that's like to lose." Kurt's voice was raspy and broken. "I miss you so much. Please, can't you come home?"

Puck lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes. "It's a long way back to Ohio. But I'm starting on the road tomorrow. I'm not sure... not sure how long it'll take, but..." He fought against the desire to promise more than he could deliver. "A couple days."

He could hear Kurt's breathing, and he could almost feel him there in the dark next to him. "Thank you," he said. "It's been a hell of a week."

He choked out a laugh that was more like a sob. "Tell me about it."

"Talk to me. I just want to hear your voice. Please..." A frantic Kurt on the other end of the phone was just about the worst thing he could imagine, and he struggled to oblige.

"Uh. I went to see Toby. He was really nice. Did Mr. Schue tell you?"

"Yes - Toby sent us a text of you in Denver. That was... yes." Puck heard him sigh. "Where did you go after that?"

"Pretty much right from there to Santa Fe. I stopped at a few open mics along the way. Played a lot of guitar. Therapy, I guess." He realized there was one song he'd left for Kurt that he hadn't gotten feedback on. "Did you - the CD, did you...?"

"I haven't been listening to much else, Noah." Kurt sounded overcome. "That song... it's beautiful. You and Mercedes, the two of you - it just kills me."

"It's not supposed to _hurt,_" he objected.

"Only in the best way," Kurt promised. "Yes, I _love _it, so much. Go on, please."

"Santa Fe. It's been... Nicole and Daphne and Alex have been taking good care of me. I mean, they've been really awesome, but Alex... he said I wasn't ready for... well, anything involving my ass. Nothing. I just wanted you to know that."

Kurt sighed. "The four of you - that's part of your history. I don't think... Noah, I've never asked you not to see them. I didn't figure it was my place. I'm not upset you're there. They understand, and they know you, and I think... I think they're good for you." It sounded like Kurt was figuring things out by saying them, so he just listened. "I don't feel bad about you spending time with Alex, or Daphne or Nicole."

Puck remembered how it had felt to open the door, after months of being away, and to see Daphne standing there, her arms open to him, her smile open and loving, without any kind of judgment - not that he'd ever expected it from her - and Nicole's heat and passion, and Alex's quiet, solid presence. Their home was just as comfortable as it ever had been, and he appreciated it more than he could express, the way they'd let him stay.

"I love them," he said. "I do."

"I know, sweetheart."

It was so good to hear that word from Kurt's lips; he just paused and let it wash over him for a moment. "They're not _my _home, though," he said. "I came looking for home, but I didn't find it with them."

Kurt caught his breath. "Did you - did you find it somewhere else?" he said, sounding a little strangled.

"No," he said. "Not exactly." He swallowed. "I met someone. A man."

There was a silence. "Okay," said Kurt softly. It was hard to tell what was happening on the other end of the phone, but he thought Kurt was crying. Puck cradled himself in one arm, hating what he was doing, and even in the same moment, feeling the Adam-shaped space in him longing to be filled. _How can I do this to him?_ he thought. But the answer was clear. He had no choice.

"His name is Adam," he said. "I met him at a coffee shop in Santa Fe. He's a singer, a real one, like, professional. He knows everything about Alex, and Nicole and Daph, and you, and F-Finn." He stuttered over that last name; he was somewhat bemused he could get it out at all. "He - he took care of me. The way you and Finn do."

"He's a Top," Kurt said. The image of Adam taking Puck over his knee was vivid in his memory, right alongside Kurt doing the very same thing, and he had a rush of unbelievable love for both of them, so fresh and real that he could almost pick it up and hold it.

"Yes," he said. "Definitely. But not just that. He's - god, Kurt..." He held his breath.

"Just tell me, Noah," said Kurt, and the command was clear. "Don't hold back. Tell me everything. I want to hear it."

"I went back to his hotel with him," he said in a rush. "He put me in the corner and I told him _everything,_ and he s-spanked me, and then we... we..."

"You had sex," Kurt said flatly.

"No," Puck protested. "We _made love,_ baby. It was _unbelievable._" He shuddered a breath and wrapped his arm tighter around himself. "We fell in love, me and Adam. Just like that. It wasn't anything we intended to have happen, it just... did."

"Just like that." Kurt's voice was far away. Then he sighed. "I guess I get that. Go on."

"Uh... he took me to temple. He's Jewish. He made me say the Mourner's Kaddish... it's a prayer thingie, you're supposed to say it when someone... dies."

"How was that?"

"Weird," he said. "But good. I think it helped me. The rabbi... well, I'll tell you about that later. But it was, uh, enlightening."

"I'm glad, sweetheart. What else?"

"He sang to me. In the coffee shop, something from his album, and again at the hotel. I sang to him, too. He gave me a copy of the CD - it came out this week. I think... I think you might know who he is."

"Really?" said Kurt, startled. "How?"

"He's on TV tonight. The American Music Awards."

There was a pause. "Noah," Kurt said, a little desperately. "Tell me... tell me you don't mean _Adam Lambert."_

"Have you heard him sing?" Puck said. "I missed all that American Idol stuff, but I went back tonight and watched it on Youtube. He's pretty awesome."

"_Noah,"_ Kurt said again, louder, and Puck thought he could hear Burt in the background, saying, "Kurt, come on, sit down."

"He's just a guy, Kurt," he insisted. "I don't care about that stuff. He's just _Adam."_ The name caught in his throat, and the next sound that came out was a wobbly groan.

"Sweetheart..." Kurt was breathing hard, and his voice was about half an octave higher than usual. "_Adam Lambert?"_

"At first, it was like, he reminded me of you," he said, and Kurt made a choking noise. "Uh, that's a compliment."

"I took it as one," Kurt sputtered. "How did you even... to his _hotel room?_ He sang to you _in the coffee shop?_ And you..." His voice dropped to the loudest whisper Puck had ever heard. "I didn't know he _did_ that... stuff... like we do. And... he has a boyfriend!"

"No," said Puck, thinking of Drake glaring at him. "They broke up, like, last month."

"Really? Because they seemed so snuggly in those photos from..." Kurt cut himself off. "God. I am _not_ gossiping about Adam Lambert with you."

"I don't think it counts as gossip if it's real."

"Real. This... this is real, Noah?" Kurt's voice was awed.

"Hell, _you_ got a phone call from Lady Gaga," Puck pointed out. "What the fuck difference is there? Isn't this the least of our weird fucking life?"

"God." Kurt smothered a surprised laugh. In a completely normal, amused voice, he said, "I really miss you."

"I miss you, too. That's why I didn't call before. I didn't think I could handle talking to you. But being with Adam... he really helped me. I'm better. Things with Finn - I think I can deal with it now. I don't feel quite so guilty."

"Guilty?" Kurt sounded positively shocked. "Noah - _you_ don't have anything to be guilty about! He's the one... god, you have no idea. He's been a wreck, he barely left his room for four days..." He heard a sound of protest. "Well, you didn't."

Puck sat straight up in the dark, his cheeks burning. "Finn... _Finn's_ there? Has... you don't have me on speakerphone, do you?"

"No. But, sweetheart, we're all here. My dad and Carole and Sarah. Timothy's been here, on and off, too."

Puck just about passed out at the idea of _Burt_ hearing Kurt talking about Puck's exploits with other people, but that feeling was eclipsed by the question that bubbled up inside him. "Why? Why are they all there?"

"We're all waiting for you to come home."

"Oh," he said. Now the guilt came down on him like an avalanche, and he cringed under its weight. "I'm sorry."

"I know you did what you felt like you had to do. And - I'm glad that... _Adam_... could help you. Mostly I'm relieved to hear you still want to come home."

He shook his head, back and forth, trying to shed the guilt. "Kurt... I don't know where home _is._ I left because I didn't have a place. Your house, Finn's house... I need a place for me. I just don't know how to find it."

"But you still want... me."

"Yes," he whispered, "God, _yes._ Every day. It killed me to leave you."

Kurt didn't sound convinced. "Even though you have... him? Seriously, Noah, how can I compete with _Adam Lambert?"_

"You don't have to." He heard Adam singing to him in his head, and he thought: _Trusted, just trusted._ He took a deep breath. "I think I love you more than before."

"Noah..." He heard Kurt's sob, and right then, it felt like if he couldn't touch him, that he would combust, just go up in flames right there. He struggled through it, listening to Kurt dealing with his anguish.

"I... I don't get it," Kurt choked out at last.

Puck struggled to put words to the feeling. "It's like... the new love, it makes all the other love I feel for you, and... and everybody, it makes it _more._ Like there's a fire inside me, and it blazes up higher when a new fire catches. It's not _instead of._ It's _also."_ He sighed, hearing Kurt crying quiet, sniffling, and finally he blew his nose. "Don't you love me, and Finn, too?"

"Yes," Kurt said. "I still don't understand _that,_ either. And Adam... is he okay, with you having... me?"

"He can't wait to meet you," he said, and Kurt let out a completely undignified squeal. "He signed his CD for you," he added, just to hear it again.

"I'm not going to hyperventilate," Kurt chanted. "Okay. This is... surreal doesn't begin to cover it. Just... if you come back ho... here, I think we can figure out the rest. Just come back."

"I will, baby," he promised.

The light in the hallway snapped on, and Nicole stuck her head in through the door. "You should come out now, sweetheart. It's starting, and I don't know when he's playing exactly." She cocked her head. "Who are you talking to?"

"Kurt," he said, holding up the phone, and her eyes lit up. She smiled at him and nodded approvingly. Then, to Kurt, he said, "Do you... do you want to stay on the phone with me while I watch the performance?"

"That would be... yes. I would. And I think, judging by her wild gesticulations, Sarah would like to talk to you."

"Okay," he said. He heard the shuffle of the phone being passed.

"You're the biggest pain in the ass brother ever," she complained. He grinned at the sound of her voice, pulling on his shorts. "Seriously. I think you broke Finn. He looks terrible. Nobody can do anything around here except whine about you. And what's this about _Adam Lambert?"_

"Hey, squirt," he said. "Yeah. I'm in love again. He's fucking incredible."

"You get all the boys." She snorted. "I'll be lucky if anyone even invites me to the winter dance."

"You're not old enough to be thinking about that shit," he objected, struggling into his shirt. "And any boy who tries, I'm going to kick his ass."

"Whatever, Noah. Do I need to kick _your _ass for hurting Kurt? You didn't do anything you shouldn't do, did you?"

"I think you have to ask Kurt that," he said, with another twinge. "I don't really know. It - it was just kind of impossible to do anything else."

"I guess love is like that. Tatenui looks like he's going to punch something, though. You're in for it."

"Who?" The Yiddish word meant _father dear._

"Mr. Hummel," Sarah clarified. "You've got your own catching up to do. A whole fucking week with no phone calls? Dude." Then, at Burt's "_Language, Sarah,"_ she added, "Sorry. I can't say the f-word anymore."

"Good fucking luck with that," Puck said, feeling a little lost. Nicole and Daphne were sitting on the couch in their postage stamp-sized family room, holding a bowl of popcorn. Nicole indicated the space between them, and he settled inside. "You're gonna watch this American Music Awards, too?"

"Uh, _yeah,"_ she said, with great scorn. "Lady Gaga's performing. You want to talk to Tatenui?"

"I don't know if he wants to talk to me," Puck said nervously, but apparently the phone was already being passed.

"Puck," said Burt, and it was like a warning.

"I'm sorry," he said right away.

"You've got a lot to answer for," Burt growled. "How many times do you think we're going to have to have this conversation?"

"Uh… a lot?" He cringed a little, imagining how much worse it was going to be when he set foot through Kurt's door. "Seriously, Burt… I've always been a fuck-up."

"I'm not talking about that," he said impatiently. "Puck, I don't care how many times you mess up. That's what humans do. It's just part of life. I'm talking about this business about _more people._ Do you think I have endless room in this damn house? Is this becoming the Hummel Home for Angsty Lovestruck Boys?"

"Oh." Puck clapped a hand to his mouth, holding back the hysterical laughter that threatened to break loose. Daphne laid her head on his shoulder, pulling him closer. He closed his eyes and waited for his heart to stop leaping around.

"Puck," Burt said, more gently. "Nobody is mad at you. _Nobody."_

"Why not?" he said, hearing the whine in his own voice, and hating it. "I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see me again."

"I know that's what Finn said, but that's not how things are now. We all miss you and want you to come home. That's step one. Step two is up to all of us to decide."

"All of us?" he said, that weak, small tone persisting. Nicole kissed his cheek, holding tight to his other arm.

"Yes," said Burt, firmly. "All of us. Now who the heck is this Adam character? Because I think Kurt's about to burst into song or something, he looks so excited."

Puck had the feeling that Adam was _not_ going to be the sort of guy that fathers liked much. And yet, he also knew that Burt Hummel was not an ordinary father, and with a son like Kurt… "He's a musician. He was on American Idol last year."

"No kidding?" Burt sounded grudgingly impressed. "Boy, you do get around, don't you?"

"I don't mean to," Puck protested, but Burt was chuckling.

"Well, I guess you can tell me all about him when you get home, huh? You going to make it in time for Christmas? I know you don't celebrate that, but…"

"Yeah," he said. "I'll be back by then, for sure. I – I don't know where I'm going to stay, though. I'm trying to figure it out."

"Okay," Burt said. "You've got time to think about it. We've got a lot to talk about. Drive safe, okay? No stupid stunts. You pull over and sleep when you get tired."

"I will." Adam's face flashed across the television screen suddenly, just a brief shot of him smiling and talking to someone, and Puck felt a jolt of adrenaline. "Thanks, Burt."

"We'll see you soon. Here's Carole."

More shuffling, and then he heard Finn's mom's calm voice was there, saying, "Puck – are you okay?"

"A lot better now," he said truthfully. "You know what happened?"

"Finn told me all of it. Or – I think all of it." She sounded almost amused, and Puck relaxed a little more. "He's giving me the evil eye, so I'm guessing there's parts I'll never know. That's the way it goes, when you're the parent."

"Yeah," he said. "I guess I'll learn that, someday."

"I guess you will," she said. "When's the baby due?"

"End of May." He thought of Quinn, staying at Brittany's, and wondered if she was having the same feelings about not having a home. He didn't want to make a home with her, but the baby would be hers, too, no matter what. _She's part of this family, too, kind of._ He figured Carole, of all people, might understand the next thing he was going to say, so he just went ahead and said it. "I can't wait to meet her."

"I remember that feeling when I was pregnant," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "There's a lot of questions I have, but I can wait until you get back to talk about it. We all want to help, Puck."

He hesitated. "What about Finn?"

"He's hurting." She was matter-of-fact. "I don't think it's going to be easy, but – Puck, the two of you have been friends for too long for this to be the end of everything. I'm sure you can work through it."

"It's more complicated than that," he said. Adam appeared on the screen again, sitting with Tommy, who had on even more makeup than Adam. Nicole pointed, nudging Daphne, and they chattered over him about Adam's clothes and hair. He rolled his eyes. _Yeah. Complicated is the word._

"It's always more complicated, the older you get. Part of the joys of adulthood. You're taking it on a little earlier than most young men do, but I know you're choosing it. That's important."

"You think I can do it?"

"I think you will, no matter how hard it gets. Because a daughter, that's not something you can run away from. Finn and Kurt, they're not happy without you, but they're coping. Your daughter - she's going to _need_ you, in a very real way."

"I know," he said. "I just – I hope it's okay for _me_ to need things, sometimes, too."

"Of course it is." She paused for a moment, talking to someone, making insistent noises. "Just say hello," she was saying. Then, to Puck: "Here's Finn."

"What? No, I –" He heard him say _"I can't,"_ and Carole say firmly, "Yes, you can."

And then, it was Finn's voice, _Finn's voice,_ on the phone. "Hi," he said.

Puck was struck dumb, hearing his own breath rattle in his throat. "What is it?" Daphne said, watching him with concern.

"Finn," he croaked, and that was all he could get out. She squeezed his arm.

Finn's voice was reluctant. "My mom wants me to tell you that I – that you should come home."

"That's not my home," Puck said. "That's why I left."

They were both silent again. "I'm not going to tell him that," Finn said to Carole, angrily.

"You don't have to say anything," Puck snapped. "Don't bother. You said plenty already."

"Yeah, and why should I believe a word _you_ say," Finn shot back. "Seems like you can lie to me whenever you feel like it."

"I'm done with that," he said. "Adam –"

"Don't," Finn choked, "_don't_ tell me about him. I can't hear it – I can't." Then he was gone.

"Noah," said Kurt over the phone, and Puck could hear the same pain in his voice that he was feeling. He wanted to hang up, to run in the other room, to bury his head in his arms and never come out... but instead he gripped Nicole's offered hand, and took a deep breath. He heard Kurt's soft sigh. "Carole followed him."

"He's scared," Puck said. "And guilty. I _know. _ He needs – he needs what I got. Kurt, you have to give it to him. You have to help him. _Please._ Nobody else is going to understand this except us, and if he doesn't get it, he's just – he's going to go crazy. You know it."

"I – Noah," Kurt said, hesitating. "He's already gone to see Dr. Howell. He's seen him a couple times."

"That's good," he said. "Okay." He sighed. "Maybe I should go."

"No," Kurt said, quickly. "Just… stay on the phone. We don't have to talk about anything. I just want you here with me."

"Baby," he said, and heard the hitch in Kurt's breath. "Yeah… okay. I'll stay."

It was mostly quiet after that, apart from Kurt's snarky commentary about everybody's outfits. It was comforting; it felt so familiar and homey. Kurt moaned as Taylor Swift won the pop/rock female vocal award over Beyonce and Lady Gaga. Alicia Keys sang "New York, New York." Michael Jackson won posthumously for soul/R&B. Rihanna performed "Hard" ("Is she wearing stripy long underwear?"). Carrie Underwood did what Puck thought was a pretty ass-kicking number. Lady Gaga set her piano on fire in the middle of "Speechless," which was a little weird, but Kurt approved of the dancers during "Bad Romance."

"Are you sure he's going to be on?" he heard Sarah say.

"The announcer said at the end," Kurt said. "It's only halfway done."

J-Lo and Whitney Houston did showy performances that made Puck yawn. ("Another award for Taylor Swift?" Kurt sighed.) Another for Michael Jackson. More Alicia Keys. Timbaland came on while Puck took a trip to the john, thinking, _it's not his music I care about. It's _him.

"We totally need to do that 21 Guns song by Green Day," Nicole said when he came back. Puck settled on the floor this time, and Daphne rubbed his shoulders as he waited, phone to his ear.

"Have you been having any more of those dreams – about… your daughter?" Kurt asked.

_My daughter._ He had to smile. "Some," he said. "Sometimes she's a little toddler, and sometimes she's older, like, four. I don't always get to hear her voice. Every now and then."

"I wonder if she'll really sound like that, someday," said Kurt. "By the time we graduate from high school, she'll be talking."

"By the time you graduate, you mean," he said.

"What do you…" Kurt sounded confused for a moment. Then he made a noise of outrage. "Noah… you _can't _drop out of school."

"I've got to make money, and I've got to take care of her." He leaned his elbows on his knees. "You got some other way for me to do those two things?"

There was a pause. _"Deal with this when he gets back," _Burt was saying from the other room. _ "Don't try to solve this tonight. He's exhausted."_

It was true; Puck _was _exhausted, his head drooping, but he wasn't going to miss Adam for anything. "Maybe Miss P. will have an idea," he murmured, closing his eyes just for a second.

He half-listened to Kurt complaining to Sarah about Taylor Swift winning Artist of the Year, but the mention of Adam's name on the television caught his attention. The glowing ten-foot words reading _ADAM LAMBERT_ flashed across the screen. Puck felt the crawling tension in his gut.

"He's on," Daphne said with excitement. "I'm so nervous, and I've never even met him!"

http:/ www. youtube. com/watch?v=UP4lnWqQ-oA - definitely watch this one if you haven't seen Adam's performance at the AMAs!

Adam's voice drifted from the speakers, and there he was, sitting on a stool in the center of the stage, in his grey suit, makeup heavy and hair spiked up.

"What _is _that thing on his shoulder?" Kurt wondered. "It looks like a robotic hedgehog."

Puck listened as Adam's high note broke, and they went into the full stage performance of the song that had affected him so completely in the car. "I can't believe they're letting him do this song," Nicole said. "It's totally over the top."

"That's Adam," Puck said.

"Is he _walking_ that guy across the stage on a _leash?"_ he heard Sarah demand, and Puck felt his entire face flush as Adam pulled the dancer's face into his _fucking crotch_.

"Oh my god," Kurt said mildly.

"Is Burt watching this?" Puck said. He couldn't look away.

"No, he's in the other room. Oooh." Kurt winced. "That note was a little sharp… _and_ that one. Aaaand that one was flat."

Puck was riveted to the screen as Adam stroked, enticed and subdued his leather-clad dancers, strutting around the stage. Every time he put his hands on another person, Puck shivered.

"That's Tommy," he said to Kurt on the phone, "his bassist. I think they might be lovers."

"What makes you – oh." He heard Kurt make a little throaty noise as Adam cupped Tommy's head and gave him a deep, full-tongue kiss. "Well."

"That wasn't why," Puck noted, fascinated. "It was just that Tommy was pretty grumpy around me. I didn't expect he was going to do _that."_

The performance wound down amid silence, and Daphne pressed mute on the television. "Well," she said, "it was groundbreaking, that's for sure."

"Hmm," said Nicole, watching Puck. "What did you think?"

"Bad," said Puck flatly. "He was just bad. The choreography was awkward, the effects were overblown and he sounded like… like he hadn't gotten nearly enough s-sleep the night before." And then he was crying, burying his face into Nicole's neck.

"Oh… sweetheart," Kurt said over the phone, and he sighed heavily.

"He wasn't _that_ bad, said Nicole, worried, retrieving the phone from Puck's loose hand.

"No," he heard Kurt say. "Noah's missing him. I can tell. And Adam Lambert is typically an excellent performer. Something was definitely off tonight." He sighed unhappily. "I bet he's missing you, too."

Puck just cried harder, because here he was on the couch with his two beautiful lovers, and he had _Kurt_ on the phone, after a week of not talking to him_ -_ and all he wanted to do was jump in his truck and drive all night to LA, to be with Adam.

"I'm going to put him to bed," said Daphne. "Tell Kurt he'll call him in the morning."

But Puck clutched for the phone as Daphne helped him get up and led him away. "Baby," he said. "I'm sorry. You deserve better than this."

"I want _you_," Kurt said. "It doesn't matter what I deserve. Thank you for calling. Get some sleep, and call me tomorrow before you head out."

"Okay," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Love you." But Kurt had already disconnected the call.

* * *

><p><em>The flashing of the lights<br>__It might feel so good  
><em>_But I got you stuck on my mind, yeah  
><em>_The flashing and the stage, it might get me high  
><em>_But it don't mean a thing tonight_

_- Adam Lambert, "If I Had You"_


	9. Chapter 9

_Obviously, I'm a risk-taker. I'm not easy listening, you know? I'm not going to always be the most digestible thing for everybody across the board. I'm specific, and I kind of like to blow it out the box. And either you like it, or you don't._

_- Adam Lambert, MTV News, February 2009_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER NINE<p>

It was dark and silent when Puck's phone rang. He sat up, startled, and fumbled for his phone on the table. No one else was in bed with him. It was an unfamiliar number from an equally unfamiliar area code. The clock read 2:32 am. "Go for Puckerman," he said sleepily.

"Did you watch?"

"Yeah." His mouth curved up in an automatic smile. "We all did."

Adam's voice was slurred. "It sucked."

"Yeah," Puck said again. "That kiss with Tommy was hot, though. Did you guys plan that?"

"All part of the performance, honey. Tommy's straight. His girlfriend doesn't mind for the sake of the show." He sighed dramatically. "Sadly, the critics hated it. They're already yanking me from Good Morning America. At least Letterman's still on."

"You think it was a little over the top?"

"No!" Adam sounded indignant. "It was _show business._ There's such a double standard. Guys, we can't be sexual on stage, but women have been doing it for years. People are afraid of male sexuality, especially when it's not 100% hetero. Well, fuck that."

"Where are you?"

"On the plane. Thank god for first class: free drinks." He sighed again. "I miss you already."

"Me, too." He closed his eyes and remembered waking up with Adam, his head on the pillow, still asleep, angelic in sleep. Not knowing when he would be able to see that again was excruciating. "Any chance of you coming through Ohio any time soon?"

"Not before the new year, I don't think, but I'll see what I can do." Adam's voice warmed, and his soft chuckle sent ridiculous spasms of excitement down Puck's spine. "The performance tonight… we'd rehearsed that choreography before, but after this weekend, the boy on the leash had a whole new meaning for me."

"God," whimpered Puck. His hand snuck under the covers and found his cock, hard and ready, and he gripped it firmly, rolling the head under his thumb. "And you practically had that dancer giving you a blowjob, on network television."

"I wish it had been you, honey," said Adam, lowering his voice. "Your mouth is astonishing."

"I'd do that all day, if you'd let me," Puck said breathlessly, and he was rewarded with a groan from Adam.

"Lots of room on the floor here in first class," he suggested.

Puck tried to picture it, from movies. "I wouldn't know. I've never been on a plane."

"You're kidding me," Adam said, with a surprised laugh.

"Dude, this is only the second time I've ever been out of Ohio."

Adam was silent for a moment. "Of course; I forgot how young you are."

Puck's fears were loud and obnoxious at 2 am; he tried to dismiss them, but they nagged at him until he finally had to say something. "That's not… a problem, is it?"

Adam's silence continued, while Puck waited on tenterhooks, but eventually Adam sighed. "Not for me. For my publicist. She's trying to convince me to stop seeing you."

"Like I said, I don't mind being a secret." He rolled over onto his stomach and tried not to sound desperate. "I could use something to look forward to, though."

There was another silence. "I could fly you out to me, in LA. There will be a few days in January when I'll be home. There are some places we could go where your age wouldn't be a problem… although the age of consent in California is 18."

"See? Another reason you should come to Ohio."

Adam snickered. "I'm not at _all_ sure your boys _want_ me to come there."

"You're wrong," Puck said. "Kurt actually squealed when I told him you wanted to meet him. And Finn… well, he may be out of the picture, but I'm going to work on him." He remembered what Toby had said. "He's… he's worth fighting for."

"I'm sure, honey," he said. He sighed again, but this time it was with calm relief. "I feel a lot better. Thanks for picking up. I'll try not to call in the middle of the night, when I can avoid it."

"I don't mind," Puck said. "I'm usually up anyway."

"Will you… sing to me? Before you go back to bed?"

Puck sat up in bed, fumbling for the light. "What do you want to hear?"

"Anything," he said. "Something to remind me why the fuck I'm doing this."

He reached off the bed and opened his guitar case, withdrawing the precious contents to his bare lap. "Hey," he said. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's just the bigots of the world who hate what you stand for. You stick to your guns, okay?"

"I'll do my best," said Adam, amused. "You're very cute, telling me what to do."

He set the phone out on the bed and pressed the button to turn on the speakerphone. Then he strummed, feeling the middle-of-the-night angsty vibe, and reached for something that suited it:

http:/ www. youtube. com/watch?v=EzeDqRhM09w

_See the stone set in your eyes  
><em>_See the thorn twist in your side  
><em>_I wait for you_

_Sleight of hand and twist of fate  
><em>_On a bed of nails he makes me wait  
><em>_And I wait without you  
><em>_With or without you  
><em>_With or without you  
><em>_I can't live with or without you_

"Honey," he heard, as he strummed.

"You want me to stop?" he said softly.

"… No," came the equally soft reply. "Never stop."

_Through the storm, we reach the shore  
><em>_You gave it all but I want more  
><em>_And I'm waiting for you  
><em>_With or without you  
><em>_With or without you  
><em>_I can't live with or without you_

_And you give yourself away  
><em>_And you give yourself away  
><em>_And you give and you give  
><em>_And you give yourself away_

He heard Adam singing softly along, in harmony or unison, as suited the song. Their voices twinned on the high notes, which didn't sound at all high in Adam's voice.

_My hands are tied, my body bruised  
><em>_He got me with nothing to win  
><em>_And nothing else to lose_

_And you give yourself away  
><em>_And you give yourself away  
><em>_And you give and you give  
><em>_And you give yourself away_

_With or without you  
><em>_With or without you  
><em>_I can't live  
><em>_With or without you_

"Thank you," said Adam, with a soft sigh. "Now my drummer's glaring at me for singing in the middle of the flight. Since he's awake, I guess I'd better regale him with tales of you."

"You can blame it all on me," Puck offered, setting his guitar down. "I don't mind taking the fall for you."

"My white knight," he murmured. "Go on back to sleep, now, honey. You're probably exhausted."

"I'm wide awake now," Puck said, but he turned off the light and lay down under the covers. "You want me to tell you a story?"

Adam laughed in surprise. "Sure."

"Okay." He breathed in and out, and the image in his mind wasn't Adam, or Kurt, or Finn, but his father, sitting beside him on the couch, with the book open in his lap. He began:

"The missing piece sat alone, waiting for someone to come along and take it somewhere. Some fit, but could not roll. Others could roll but did not fit. One didn't know a thing about fitting. And another didn't know a thing about anything."

He heard Adam chuckle. "I think I've met that piece before."

"One was too delicate," he went on. "One put it on a pedestal and left it there. Some had too many pieces missing. Some had too many pieces, period."

He added here, "I hope that's not me."

"No, honey," said Adam. "You're just fine the way you are. Go on."

Puck obliged, reciting as best as he could recall: "It learned to hide from the hungry ones. More came. Some looked too closely. Others rolled right by without noticing. It tried to make itself more attractive… it didn't help. It tried being flashy, but that just frightened away the shy ones.

"At last one came along that fit just right." He turned his head to the side so the tears that welled up could fall onto his pillowcase. "But all of a sudden, the missing piece began to grow, and grow, and grow.

"'I didn't know you were going to grow,' said the one that fit.

"'I didn't know it either,' said the missing piece.

And he went on without him, singing his song." He did the funny voice his dad had always done, here: "'I'm lookin' for my missing piece, one that won't increase…'

Adam laughed again. Puck was rather amazed how well he remembered the story. He continued.

"And then one day, one came along who looked different.

"'What do you want of me?' asked the missing piece.

"'Nothing,' said the one.

"'What do you need of me?' he asked.

"'Nothing,' said the one again.

"'Who are you?' asked the missing piece.

"'I am the Big O,' said the Big O.

"'I think you are the one I've been waiting for,' said the missing piece. 'Maybe I am your missing piece.'

"'But I am not missing a piece,' said the Big O. 'There is no place you would fit.'

"'That is too bad,' said the missing piece. 'I was hoping that perhaps I could roll with you…'

"'You cannot roll with me,' said the Big O, 'but perhaps you can roll by yourself.'

"'By myself? A missing piece cannot roll by itself.'

"'Have you ever tried?' asked the Big O.

"'But I have sharp corners,' said the missing piece. 'I am not shaped for rolling.'

"'Corners wear off,' said the Big O. "And shapes change. Anyway, I must say good-bye. Perhaps we will meet again.' And off he rolled.

"'The missing piece was alone again. For a long time it just sat there. Then, slowly, it lifted itself up on one end, and then it flopped over. It began to move forward. And soon its edges began to wear away, and its shape began to change. Then it was bumping instead of flopping, and then it was bouncing instead of bumping, and then it was rolling instead of bouncing… It didn't know where, and it didn't care. It was rolling!

"'And eventually it caught up to the Big O.'"

It took Adam a long time to say anything. Puck thought maybe he had fallen asleep. When he did talk, his voice was thick with emotion. "What happens then?"

"That's the end," he said. "Or, in the book, anyway, that's the end."

"Do you suppose... they live happily ever after?"

"I'd like to think so," Puck said. "But I guess nobody really knows but them, huh?"

Adam paused again, and Puck heard a faint noise, like a sniff. "You're going to be one amazing father, Noah," he said at last.

Puck squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip. "That's… god." He waited until he could speak again. "I've had a lot of people say I shouldn't… that it's the wrong decision, that I needed to forget it. But… that's the first time anybody's said anything like _that_ to me."

"Well, I have fantastic parents, so I should know," Adam said. "Plus, I'm always right."

"Of course," said Puck, his eyes still closed.

"Thank you for the story. I'll never forget that."

"Me either," he whispered.

"I love you, honey."

"Oh," he said, through his tears. "Fuck. I love you, too."

"Call me tomorrow before bed."

"Yes, Adam," he said, and hung up.

Before he set his phone aside, he sent Kurt a text: _I love you, baby._

And, for good measure, he sent one to Finn, too, minus the "baby" - _because, holy shit_, he thought,_ everybody needs to hear that sometimes. Especially when you're feeling bad about yourself._

* * *

><p>Puck woke early the next morning. He made some tea and a pan of his most impressive breakfast, the crème brûlée French toast – the dish he'd once made for Kurt and Finn. He left it on the counter, eating his share and doing the dishes.<p>

Then he went out to the porch with his tea cup, looking out at the horizon, in the direction of the rising sun, which wouldn't be up for another half hour. It was chilly, and the steam rose from his cup, disappearing into the indigo sky. He took a deep breath, and spoke the words of the Mourner's Kaddish:

_Yis'ga'dal v'yis'kadash sh'may ra'bbo, b'olmo dee'vro chir'usay v'yamlich malchu'say, b'chayaychon uv'yomay'chon uv'chayay d'chol bais Yisroel, ba'agolo u'viz'man koriv; v'imru Omein..._

When he was done, he heard the rumbling voice in the doorway say, "You weren't going to try to leave without saying goodbye, were you?"

"No, sir," he said, without turning around. He took a sip of tea and leaned back, and Alex was there, warm and strong and never too demanding.

"I don't think that title suits me anymore," he murmured. "You've bestowed it upon someone else. More than one sir isn't good for anybody, I don't think."

Puck glanced up at him. "Okay," he said. "Whatever you think." He shook his head. "But Finn, he doesn't want it anymore."

"You don't know that," Alex said. "He's in a place of healing right now. When he comes out, he'll understand what he needs better. Tops are like that. You have to give him time."

Puck swirled the last of his tea thoughtfully. "I think... I think he needs to be taken care of. He's got guilt, and it's hurting him. He needs his own Top. But who Tops the Top?"

"Mmmm. A good question." Alex absently stroked Puck's head. "Someone he trusts, above all. Someone who can handle it if he falls apart, if he needs to be needy. That can be upsetting to a brat who's used to the Top being in charge. Someone who isn't afraid to be firm."

"Kurt's good at taking care of me," Puck said. "But he's not like Finn. I think Finn needs someone who's like him."

"I hear you had a moment to Top, yourself," Alex said, pressing a kiss to Puck's cheek. "How did you like that?"

Puck put a hand on Alex's chest, and smiled to himself. "It was a hell of a rush," he said. "And scary, too. I mean, what if I messed up? All that responsibility. I wasn't sure if I could handle it."

"But you did," he said. "In your own way. You took care of your baby."

Puck's eyes dropped closed, and he shuddered, once. "I think I knew what he needed, even before I _knew_ I did. Does that make sense?"

"Of course." He touched Puck on his heart, and on his forehead. "You knew it - in here. And here. You can trust your intuition. You let your love for him guide you."

"It's funny," he said, setting the cup down and putting his arms around Alex's broad back. "I don't usually want to give that to Kurt. Mostly I want him to take care of _me_. But... every now and then, it comes up." He paused. "But there was this boy I met, at the dance club. He - I felt - I wanted to be that. For him."

"Did he want it?"

"Definitely," said Puck, without hesitation. "I don't think he knew what it _was,_ though. And... well, we haven't seen each other since then. I don't even know his name." He sighed. "I've been thinking a lot about him, though. It's... frustrating."

"I'm sure," Alex rumbled, and he sounded amused. "It reminds me a bit of a young man I once met, who visited me for three weeks and then went home to his own family."

"Oh," he said. Puck felt his face flush red. "I - I'm sorry."

"No need," Alex said gently. He tipped Puck's face up - _way _up - to meet his gaze. His eyes were blue, though nothing like Adam's, and they were surrounded by sun-made wrinkles that made him look wise beyond his years. "You are your own person, and I'm glad to have known you, just as you are, in just the way you have shared yourself with me."

"You're doing it perfectly," Puck said to himself.

"If you like," Alex nodded. "I'm glad to have taught you, and to have shared myself with you, and now to have you go on and share yourself with others - and to be ready to show others the way to themselves, too."

Puck blinked, suddenly feeling a chill. "Alex... you're not breaking up with me, are you?"

Alex chuckled. "I don't think I've ever done that before. I don't have the intention of doing it now. Relationships are fluid. They change and become whatever they need to be. You and I, we will grow, and change, just as our relationship does. You and I will always have... what we have." He took Puck's hands and held him out at arm's length, regarding him solemnly. "And you, and your otherloves, are always welcome in my home."

"Thank you, s... thank you. Alex." Puck found himself standing straighter as the breeze of the desert air brushed his skin, and he was struck with a feeling he hadn't shared with Alex before. It was a feeling of equality. He wasn't quite sure what to do with it, but it made him feel strong inside, like his bones were suddenly made of firmer stuff.

And then Alex was crushing Puck to him, his vast arms like tree trunks, and their lips met in a bruising, searing kiss. Before Puck could even gasp, Alex had released him again.

"You'd better get on the road," he said, patting his bottom. "Don't want to keep your boys waiting any longer than you have to."

* * *

><p><em>November<br>__Nothing much to remember  
><em>_You were not in sight_

_December  
><em>_Change of the weather  
><em>_You were by my side_

_Love  
><em>_Is all we want  
><em>_Love  
><em>_Love  
><em>_Is all we need  
><em>_It's all that we really want_

_- Adam Lambert, "November"_


	10. Chapter 10

_I kind of asked for [the fuss around the kiss at the AMAs], in a way… Not everything is so premeditated as people think it is. There are things that just happen, there are things you just do._

_- Adam Lambert, The Advocate, October 2011_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER TEN<p>

Puck's F-150 was in pretty good shape, but he could tell by the noises he was hearing as he tooled across I-80 that the suspension needed some work. _Burt told me those parts aren't cheap. _He sighed, cracking his neck, hoping his truck would make it the thousand miles back to Ohio, back to Burt's shop and somebody who knew what they were doing. He sure as hell didn't - not with the car, and apparently not with his relationships either.

If his CD player had had a playcount, he guessed he would have reached fifteen or higher on Adam's brand-new CD by now. The number of times he'd glanced at the inscription on the CD case was more like a hundred. Listening to Adam singing to him - _to him_, he thought stubbornly, though of course he knew the songs had been written long before they'd met - would never get old, but everything else about this trip, he was fucking _done_ with it. His ass had been planted on the truck's bench seat for over seventeen hours straight, not counting stops to piss and get an awful sandwich, and he was ready for a break.

That was what he told himself, anyway, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Lady Tess' number.

"Puck?" Her voice was a little puzzled.

"La- uh, hi, Ms. Riordan," he said, stumbling over the name he had for her in his head, but had never spoken aloud. "It's, uh, kind of late. Hope I'm not bothering you."

"Not at all," came the firm reassurance. "It's early hours yet for the club, Puck. Are you safe?"

"I'm on the road, heading back to Ohio from Santa Fe," he said, cracking his neck and changing lanes. "I'm kind of in your part of the country, and I figured I might say hi. You up for some company?"

"Where are you," she asked solidly.

"I'm - wait -" He squinted at the mile marker as he passed it. "I'm about fifteen miles west of Iowa City on I-80."

"You'll see a Junction for IA-27; head south there, Puck. Then US-34 to Burlington. I want you to stop in Burlington and call me back. It's much easier if I just walk you through the back roads as you're driving."

"Thanks," he said, and he meant it. "I'm beat. It's been a hell of a weekend."

"You owe me an answer, Noah," she repeated, a steely edge coming into her tone. "Are you safe?"

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Are you talking my body or my heart? 'Cause I'm not at all clear about that second one. But - if you mean the first, I'm okay."

"Just the body, young man. Santa Fe is a long drive. If you're tired, I can send a driver out to you - it wouldn't be the first time."

"No, I'm all right." A faint smile crossed his face. "I didn't sleep late this morning, but what sleep I did get was good. I'll make it fine... but thanks for thinking of me. I'll call you from Burlington."

"See that you do," came the brisk tone. "Be careful, Puck. People get lazy on the smaller roads."

"I'll watch for deer," he promised. "And crazy dumb a- uh, people. Talk to you soon."

The cab felt a lot quieter after that, but he had a sense of anticipation. Lady Tess owned a club, but that was the extent of his knowledge - although he could make a pretty good stab at _what kind_ of club it probably was. He sighed. _All I really want is a bed and a meal that doesn't suck. _He was ready to turn off his brain and get comfortable in the dark and just _relax._

* * *

><p>Tess sighed and shook her head, slipping the phone back into it's place in the leather pouch she wore at her waist. She signaled her majordomo, nodding towards her office. The rounds of the club were complete, everything was set, and the private party starting to trickle in. It was Sunday, so there were far fewer people in the club - members only.<p>

"Stephen," she said quietly. "There's a young - a very young - man who will be arriving in an hour and a half. I'd like you to make certain that the guest room in my suite is ready, and that my office is a little warmer than it normally is this time of night," came the wry request. "I'd prefer not to be interrupted, but of course I am available for emergencies - it should be a quiet night, that gathering wrapped earlier, and there won't be much traffic tonight. Staff is on call if you need."

"Of course, ma'am," he said politely. "How young?""

She smiled at the man. One of the young men Beau had spent a great deal of time with, the military bearing still held. "Back hallway young, Stephen. Thank you." She moved off to make the rest of the preparations that were absolutely necessary.

She was seated at her desk, arranging the night's paperwork, knowing she'd have little time for it, anticipating the work with long practice and a wry smile. Santa Fe, she thought, and she knew from the boy's voice that something that happened. Her phone rang before she knew it, and it was ten minutes work to guide him to the club, and to let Stephen know to bring the boy straight up to her office. She rose and drew the scrim curtain across the back half of the room, not wanting the boy to be distracted, limiting the room to her desk, and the small seating area around the couch.

Stephen's head ducked around the door and silently gestured for the boy to follow him. Puck moved a little stiffly, in a way that was very familiar to Tess, but even so, his eyes were clearer and his face more calm than they had been the last time she'd seen him in November in Ohio. "Hi," he said, with a shy smile. "Thanks for letting me stop by. Nice place you've got here."

"Thank you," came her formal reply, as she stood. "Now come here, Noah." She held out a hand to him.

He stepped around to her side of the desk and took her hand, and she pulled him into a close hug, arms folding tightly around him. She'd have it out of him shortly, but he looked in need of care, eyes tired. She laughed a little as she heard his stomach rumble in protest of the tight embrace. In response to her laughter, he melted into her embrace, the tension going out of him immediately, and he let out an unhappy sigh.

"Sorry - I haven't had much to eat. Road food kind of sucks, you know." He sounded mildly affronted at the idea. "I should have made sandwiches myself, but I was kind of in a hurry to get on the road. I told Kurt I'd be back in Ohio by Christmas."

She reached into the cabinet behind her desk, and opened a bottle of water, handing it to him. "Well. We're going to take care of that first, and then you're - well, I certainly hope you're not planning on getting taller, but you're too young to skip meals like that, Noah." Her tone was lightly scolding, carrying no censure.

"I doubt I'm getting any taller," he grinned, running a hand over the stubble on his scalp, "though that'd be nice. Kurt's almost as tall as me, already; I bet he's gonna top out at something around six feet."

"Come along now," she said, opening the door, and nodding to security, standing just outside. She led the boy through the back hallways, and down the service stairs, the worn wood comfortable under her boots. Her dress swept out behind her, the velvet and lace trailing, as she ushered the boy beside her, careful as always that the fabric didn't encumber him.

Puck's eyes went wide as he glanced around himself. The low lighting didn't disguise the subtle detailing and beautiful wood trim of the renovated hotel. "Wow," he said in a hushed voice. "This is pretty awesome. Where did you get this place?"

"It was actually condemned and scheduled to be demolished, when I bought it," she said fondly. "Quite a lot went into the restoration, it was a lovely experience."

"I'd love to cook in a place like this," he said, stopping to run a finger along an ornate baseboard. "Someday I want to be a head chef in a big deal restaurant, maybe in a hotel, or on a cruise ship. Someplace where I can make really amazing food, and people would appreciate it, you know?" He made a face. "Not much like that in Lima."

She paused, and held out a hand to him. "That sounds lovely, Puck." He took it, following her lead. The back hallway evened out, worn old carpets back here still with the pattern showing faintly. The sounds of the kitchen were making themselves known, and she'd nodded at the last security she passed. It was the route she always took to the great open kitchen, and she knew that the chef would be notified that she was coming down with a guest. The aroma of garlic was strong in the air.

Puck's face went from awed to starving in three seconds. "God. What is that?" He sniffed. "Rosemary. And... cumin?"

Tess repressed a smile, and gently opened the door to the kitchen, leading him by the hand into the big room. Some of the original kitchen fixtures were still in place - restored, and in use as well. The huge cast iron wood stove, with its ovens and all, was one of her favorite things, and the chef was forever shooing her away from standing too close, basking in it's warmth. It was kept scrupulously clean at her insistence, an orderly place. There were long stainless steel workstations, and equally long expanses of thick butcher block, and the kitchenware on neat steel racks, and rows of preserves gleaming along the back wall.

"Oh my god," he said, eyes like platters. His hand went up to the wood stove, then over to the stainless counters, carefully dodging the prep cooks and sous chefs in their midst.

"Chef Rodgers," she greeted, as the head chef came to greet her. "This is my young friend Puck, James. I don't suppose we could fill him up? I could use a little something myself." She winked.

Puck held out his hand to Chef Rodgers with a big smile. "This is f- this is awesome," he effused, with just enough self-control to keep his dignity. "How many do you serve in a night? What kind of a staff do you keep? I bet you get to work with some fantastic ingredients. Do you import the fish from the west or east coast? What about -"

James laughed. "A young man who knows what he's about down here! That's a pleasant novelty, Puck. How about a little tour? Tess is having a love affair with the wood stove in her spare moments; she'll be fine without us for a little while."

* * *

><p>Puck stifled a burp and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "That was really delicious," he said, indicating the empty plate before him on the small wooden table. "And trust me, I don't say that about many things I eat. The beef was cooked just enough. I like it mostly mooing."<p>

Tess snickered. "You sound like a good friend of mine," she told him. "I'd like to finish my drink, Puck, and then..." She looked the young man up and down carefully assessing. He was calm, more together than she'd seen him before, even though she could see from the set of his eyes, how he carried himself, that there was a heavy burden on his heart. "Perhaps a tour of the club facilities?"

His eyes lit up. "Yeah," he said, with enthusiasm, pushing out his chair. "Can I help clean up first?"

Such a delightful sub, and at such a young age. "They're particular - the far counter, please. They'll appreciate it, the kitchen gets a lot of orders coming in from about this time of evening on out.

Puck went to the sink at once, gathering his nearly-clean dishes and dunking them into the soapy water, grabbing a sponge to begin the three-sink procedure that was standard in most commercial kitchens. He clearly didn't have a problem getting his hands dirty. Tess smiled and shook her head, and James took a brief seat next to her, a glass of water in his hand. They both watched the eager young man.

"A little younger than the ones you usually have here with you."

"Certainly. Friends of John's, actually, his family. He's still in need of guidance though - I'd rather make sure he has the knowledge of how to stay safe, and not have to rescue him in a few months, or even a few years."

The chef's face softened. "Of course. I'd be happy to have him down here with me, he doesn't seem like he'd be underfoot, if you'd like, Tess."

Puck approached the two of them, drying his hands on a towel. "All set. I let them dry in the rack, if that's okay."

Tess set her wineglass down, and James rose in just enough time to hand the elegant woman to her feet, with a courteous nod.

"Thank you, James, as always. Puck? Come along now."

Puck followed willingly as they passed through the door to the club proper, the atmosphere abruptly changing from calm business to public excitement. His attention diverted, he began heading toward some sparkly thing, until she stopped him with a firm hand on his arm.

"Now then. There are a few guidelines that you _will_ follow, young man. The first - you are to _stay with me at all times._ You will not wander off on your own, you will go nowhere in this building unless I am with you. You are underage, and I will not risk my livelihood on your curiosity, Puck."

"Yes, L- Mrs. Riordan," he said.

"It's all right to call me Tess, sweetheart. If anyone so much as sees you away from my side - and security is thorough here - I will personally escort you to the door, and I'll be making phone calls - starting with Burt."

Puck's eyes widened perceptibly at the threat, and he nodded solemnly. "I got it... Tess."

"I'll have a promise from you, young man."

"Yes ma'am," he said immediately, without hesitation.

"Next. This may not sound as serious as that first rule, Puck, but in a way, it is. You are not to keep any questions to yourself. If you see something you don't understand, if you see something that's new to you, if you see something that you're curious about, you are to _ask._" She gave him a little smile. "You're well mannered enough to do it politely."

"Yes, ma'am," he said again. "I bet I'll have plenty of questions."

"Finally," she said, "You are to keep this visit to yourself. This is not an experience that confers any kind of bragging rights, and if I hear about it, I'll come down to discipline you personally. Your partners are one thing - I'd expect you to discuss this with them if you wish. Carl, and other mentors of that ilk, that's fine as well - but do not divulge details of your visit to anyone else. Do you understand?"

He paled at the mention of Dr. Howell, and nodded his silent assent.

"Oh. And a word of warning. James Rodgers is a heavy top. If he were to catch you down in that kitchen without me? I guarantee he'll blister your backside for you - there's a dearth of wooden spoons and spatulas - not to mention the razor strop he keeps to sharpen the blades."

Puck's face was a picture of conflicted interest and fear, but he nodded again. His eyes were wide open and drinking it all in as they began their tour.

Tess escorted him down the great hall and into the demonstration hall. She stepped to the side with him, just inside the door, to let him look around. There was a lot to see, the curving stage wrapped half around the room, and there were various venues along it, each with a small throng of people watching, appreciating, calling out encouragement, or mocking, or deriding as appropriate.

Puck's eye was drawn by the sight of a slim blonde woman wearing a full leather mask and wearing a collar, and not much else, being led down the hall by a man in a denim vest and leather pants. She didn't look like it was causing her any distress to be on display this way, and Puck found himself inexplicably moved as the man's hand came down, gently, on top of her head as they walked. He blinked away tears and tried to focus elsewhere.

The crack of a bullwhip caught his attention. At one end of the hall, several semicircles of chairs ringed a man wielding a bullwhip. Puck watched, incredulous, as the man dangled rings from the erect nipple of one topless woman, then used the whip to strike the rings off her nipples from eighteen feet away. The sound was astonishingly loud, but the woman was clearly unharmed. "How the fuck...?" he murmured, shaking his head.

The next scene along the row, once he was able to drag his eyes away, was a large frame, shaped like an X - and a woman was drooping, her wrists and ankles bound, her head arching back as a burly man wielded a thick and heavy flogger, and she was moaning and yelping something fierce. Puck shivered as the sound made an impact, and he remembered the flogger that Dr. Howell had used on him. He gazed up at the X-shaped frame.

"It's called a St. Andrew's cross - the name comes literally from the Saint Andrew, who was said to have been martyred on a cross of that shape - _crux decussata._ Does that look like an interesting activity to you?"

"Yeah," he blurted, eyes darting back and forth between Tess and the cross. "I've never seen anything like that before."

Tess nodded. "It's a big piece of equipment, and it takes a lot of room. There's a mirror behind it, so if she picks her head up, she can see the reactions of the crowd."

"God." His eyes were as big as the fried eggs James had been making in the kitchen. "That's f- uh, that's awesome."

His face was pensive as they walked through the hallways of the club, his eyes keen and trained on every detail, but his mind clearly elsewhere.

"Dear boy," she chided. "I'm not talking for my health. What's going on in that head of yours?"

She paused them in one of the many alcoves along the private hallway they were in.

"Sorry," he sighed. "I know - this is really great, the club and all. It's just... well, you know about all the stuff that went on at home, but you don't know what happened after Finn found out." His voice dropped, nearly inaudible over the noise of the club. "He... he hit me. He learned about the lie and he kicked my ass, right there in the middle of Glee." He looked a little surprised, and then said, "It's the first time I've said it out loud, like that."

Tess looked at the young man, compassion in her grey eyes. "Through here, Noah," came the soft request. They were very near the playrooms, and she opened the door on an unoccupied room that was used for aftercare. There was a soft lounging couch there, and she settled both of them on it, reaching into a cupboard for a clean handkerchief and a bottle of water, setting them to her side as she listened.

Puck's eyes flickered around the room, settling on a spot just in front of Tess. "He didn't want to talk to me," he said, his voice low. "I don't think he's ever going to want to see me again. I think I'm going to have to write him off."

"Oh, sweetie," she said, hand reaching out to stroke the soft stubble on his scalp. "He should not have hit you, Noah. That's unacceptable. Do you understand?"

"I know," he said, "but I guess I figured it was just part of the way we were together. But then, I don't know, afterwards, I just felt so fucking _mad_ at him. Do you think that was wrong of me?"

"_No,"_ Tess said firmly. "Relationships built on love and trust do not involve the sort of actions Finn took. You're right to be angry. That's perfectly normal - and healthy."

He took a deep breath and settled his shoulders, leaning back on the wall. "Okay," he said. "I'm... well, I guess I'm glad to hear that. Nobody said that to me, until this weekend. Adam said it, too."

"Adam? Go on, Noah."

Puck's body language changed entirely, and he leaned forward, his eyes lighting up. "Adam - he's the guy I met in Santa Fe. He's... well, he's pretty amazing." She watched him relax into his words, clearly feeling everything as strongly as she'd expect a sensitive boy like him to feel things. "I told him about Finn. I mean - he made me. He got me right away, what I needed." His face went red, and he ducked his head to his chin. "He put me in the corner until I was ready to talk to him."

Tess simply reached out and put an arm around the boy, pulling him close, waiting for him to continue. There was obviously more to this, and she had all the patience in the world for it.

"And then - god." He grinned, still pink. "He, uh, he spanked me. With a paddle. First time for that. And he took me to synagogue, and I did the Mourner's Kaddish for my Ma..." His breath came out in a long rush. "We had a really amazing weekend."

"The Mourner's Kaddish - Noah - your mother?"

He looked startled, and met Tess' gaze with his own. It wasn't sad; instead, she saw resignation, even acceptance. "Yeah. She died, last week. Thursday. I don't know exactly what, they aren't sure - something in her brain, maybe a stroke." His gaze diverted to the wall. "I took off a few days after that."

"Come here," she ordered firmly, patting her lap.

He froze, looking with dread at her velvet-clad legs, and with much hesitation moved toward her, bending over her lap to present his behind for discipline.

"No, _no,_ Noah. I don't mean that way - come here, sweetheart," she said, helping him upright, and seating him firmly in her lap, arms wrapped tightly around him.

"Oh," he said, relieved, letting his head rest on her shoulder. "Heh. My bad."

She laughed at that. "It happens. I'm sorry I wasn't clearer, honey." He flinched a little at that, and her frown returned. "Noah?"

"No, I just..." He sighed, settling against her body, taking comfort in her closeness and warmth. "Adam... he calls me that. I... don't think I was expecting to hear it again so soon."

"Ah," she said with understanding. "That's fine, Noah. Were you comfortable with Adam's discipline? Did he ask for your consent, first?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, with a grin. "It was totally what I wanted. I was kind of impressed with him. But he said - it was the first time he'd done anything like that, and had it really _mean_ something. Before that, it was just, like, a game. But not with me." He sounded a little smug.

"I appreciate your faith in this man, Noah." She hesitated. "I want to hear more about him, if you please. And, I would very much like to continue hearing about him, and your contact with him in the future. I feel obligated to point out, Noah, that this is your first encounter with him. I'm glad it is such a positive experience, but I worry about the potential for heartache, sweetheart."

Puck nodded, slowly. "I got that," he said. "I wasn't really sure what to expect when I went into it. I think I thought it was going to be, like, a one night thing. But things changed, for both of us, and we _knew_ it." He smiled, a secret smile, recalling moments of intimacy he wouldn't bring up here. "It was... amazing. He made sure to wait, until the next day, to tell me how he really felt. But we're both pretty sure, now." His face was shining, now, with love, and she didn't need any more words to know how _he_ felt.

She could feel his body language, trusting and relaxed, and continued stroking the soft hair as he relaxed, waiting to hear what else would come out. She wished she could keep him for a couple of days, but it was unlikely. She'd have to listen carefully, and act accordingly.

"That sounds lovely, Noah. Will you promise me to let me know how things are going? No running off and hiding from me, young man, I'd like to expect regular phone calls."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, smiling. "I'm not sure what to expect, now. He's called me once, but I know he's pretty busy between now and January. I don't really think I'll hear much from him." He put a hand over his face, leaning against her. "God. It was a lot, in one weekend. The rabbi said... well, he said I should be thinking about my Ma, every day, and saying this prayer for her. But all I can think about is Adam." He gazed at her. "Do you think that's wrong?"

"No," came the firm reply. "It's not wrong, Noah." She reached down and opened the bottle of water, handing it to him. "Your well-being is the most important thing. Your mother is a part of that, and now Adam is a part of that. Do you think you could do both? Say the prayers for your mother, and spend a few minutes of the day to think of her, and let those feelings go with that prayer? Adam gave you a gift that touched you very deeply, Noah, and you're right to think over how you feel about him, in detail and at length."

Puck meditated on that for a moment. "That makes sense," he said, relaxing further into her lap. "I really do think saying that prayer helped, but I have no fucking idea why. Isn't that weird?" He shook his head. "I guess that's going to have to go in the 'unexplained weird shit' box for a while, huh?"

She raised an elegant eyebrow at the young man, and her hand patted his bottom firmly, twice. "You'll mind your language, Noah."

Puck was startled, but nodded quickly. "Sorry. Old habits. But - my Ma. She would have appreciated the prayers... but the rabbi said it was more about how I was in the eyes of God. I don't even know if I _believe_ in God. I just - I want my Ma to be proud of me."

"Have the discipline to say the prayers, Noah, and perhaps you'll find out. And knowing you, I cannot imagine that she would be anything but proud." Tess pressed a gentle kiss to his temple.

His eyes glittered with tears, but he nodded again. "I think I can do that."

"Good. And I'm right here for you too, young man." She gave him a stern look, though there was mirth behind it. "What other surprises have you for me, now?"

He shrugged. "I guess - I'm not sure, if Kurt's going to be okay with this thing with Adam. I don't think I can give either one of them up."

Her eyes softened. "All you can do is be honest with him, Noah. If Kurt loves you as much as I think he does, it likely won't be a problem."

"He did say he loved me," Puck said softly. "He wanted me to come home, to him." He gazed at his lap. "It doesn't feel much like home. That's part of the reason I left. I wanted to find that - that home. I thought I might, in Santa Fe, but it wasn't there either." His eyes were calm and sad. "I don't think I really have a home anymore."

Tess was silent for a long moment. "I understand, sweetheart," she said softly, hesitating a little. "I didn't have anywhere when I was your age, either. And I went straight into the army after college - a little younger than usual. I moved around frequently, to different bases, stations over my career, Noah. In the end, I found that home was where I felt safe and comfortable - or where there was someone who loved me very much. It wasn't a tangible address - it was in me."

He listened to her with grave attention. "There's a story my dad used to tell me, about a missing piece, and a Big O, and how you can be... at home. In yourself." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Tess gently batted his hand away, and moved in with the clean handkerchief, shaking her head a little, though she was smiling. He smiled in appreciation. "Do you think I'll ever feel like that?"

"I do. Hearts that run deep like yours, my dear - they're rewarded with that sense of security. Sometimes it takes some work, mind you. And sometimes it takes a safe harbor - do you know what I mean by that?"

He nodded slowly. "Places... people. Like Finn, and Kurt. And... and Adam?"

"And here with me, if you need," she said, reaching out a gentle finger and tapping him on the end of his pert nose. He twitched, ducking his head with a laugh.

"That's awesome," he said, and yawned an enormous yawn, his jaw cracking. "Uh. Sorry. I think I might be done a little early."

"I agree. Come with me, now, Noah. Unless you'd be more comfortable right here - I can always have security take you to my guest room. You're not too big for me here, but I think I'd wake you up if I threw you over my shoulder in a fireman's carry."

Puck's grin was a wicked one. "I've done that a few times myself," he said, stretching hugely. "I don't doubt that you could carry me, Lady Tess, but you don't have to try that hard. I'd follow you anywhere."

She blinked back tears of her own. "Thank you. Let's get you in a comfortable bed." Her voice was even, and controlled, and she patted the side of his thigh.

He padded docilely behind her as she led the way back out of the quiet room into the back hallway. He could see the lights flashing, the swell of people dancing as they went by, and out here the vibration of the music came up through the floors with a pleasant buzz.

Tess nodded to security, who followed the two of them quietly, the guard changing over at the entrance to the older part of the club where her quarters were. The boy was practically asleep on his feet, scrubbing his eyes with his fist - _and no wonder, _she thought fondly. She ushered him into the dim of her sitting room, and straight into the guest room that was just across from her own room. The boy's bag was set on the bench at the end of the bed, and she sat him down firmly, unlacing the worn sneakers and slipping them off.

"Pajamas," she requested.

"Uh," he said, looking confused. "I don't think I own any of those. I'm okay in my boxers and t-shirt."

She swallowed on the grin that wanted to break free, and reached for the button of his jeans. "Off with these, then, Noah."

He struggled with his jeans, giving in to sleep almost before he was prone and covered, but Tess helped him the rest of the way, tugging the legs off. He sprawled face down on the bed, his head halfway on the pillow, his eyelids already drooping closed. "Thanks," he murmured. "I'll... I can make you breakfast tomorrow. I make great pancakes."

"Shhh," she hushed. "The only thing you need to think of is resting, right now." Her voice was quiet and warm. "Sleep now, Noah." She waited a moment until his breathing deepened, and stole the opportunity to gently peek under the edge of his boxers, assessing the handiwork of the Top Noah was putting so much trust in. The dark bruises were consistent with Puck's description of the paddle, none of it particularly severe, aside from a reddened patch. She sighed, and gently covered him over, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"G'night, baby," he muttered. Tess blinked and shook her head, quietly stepping away from the bed, and snapping off the light. She'd get a little more out of him in the morning - and perhaps have a better look at his backside, talk to him about safe play with a Top - and how to be safe inside himself.

* * *

><p><em>I said hey I'll cover you honey cause the pain's gotta go somewhere<br>__Yeah the pain's gotta go someplace  
><em>_So come on down to my house  
><em>_Don't you know that  
><em>_Love's the only house big enough for all the pain in the world_

_- Martina McBride, "Love's the Only House"_


	11. Chapter 11

_You know, honestly, when you start talking so much about your relationship, it opens the door too much. I've only been in one major long-term relationship prior to this, and I'm really, really happy. It's done a lot for me, and it's grounded me, and it has inspired me as a writer and as a performer. I just think everybody wants that connection, and I'm really happy to have found it._

_- Adam Lambert, The Advocate, October 2011_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER ELEVEN<p>

Puck's complement of nighttime visitors tonight included his daughter, appearing in her four year old guise. She was eating an ice cream cone and making a big mess of her hands, and dancing adorably to music on the radio. Strangely enough, the dark-haired boy from the club was there, too, wiping her hands off and smiling at her as she threw her arms around him. He gazed up at Puck, his face much clearer in the dream than he would have expected, and said, "She's going to need a bath tonight."

That's when he woke up, his heart hurting in ways he wasn't sure what to do with. It took him a few minutes to get his bearings, as it always did when he woke in a strange place, but eventually he remembered Tess and the club, and he prowled out in his shorts to find out more about where he was.

Tess had left the guest room door open, and her own bedroom doors open as well. She expected that she would hear him at some point. She wasn't at all surprised to wake to the sound of his footsteps in the hallway, and rose easily, wrapping her soft robe about herself and emerging from the bedroom to see exactly where he thought he was going.

The soft light from one room drew him, and Puck pushed open the door to find a kitchenette. He stepped in the room and padded barefoot over to the counter, leaning in to see what was on the other side.

Tess smirked a little to herself, of course he'd head straight for a kitchen. She didn't let the door swing shut behind him, as it was wont to do. And so nicely laid out over the counter for -

She gently swatted his backside. "Noah."

He jumped about three feet into the air, coming down a hundred and eighty degrees from where he'd begun, his back pressed up against the bar, trembling, eyes wide as platters. "Holy sh- Lady Tess!" He put a hand to his chest. "You scared the crap out of me."

"I imagine," came the dry reply. "And you're out of bed, why?"

He took a calming breath and glanced around himself. "I almost never sleep through the night. Bad dreams, my dad... and good dreams, my daughter." He grinned. "And other things."

She nodded understandingly, and filled the kettle, setting it on the stove and turning the burner on. "What was it tonight?"

"Daughter... and a boy I met once, at another club. I've been dreaming about him a lot." His voice went thoughtful as he picked up the milk and poured a little into one of the cups. "He seemed like he needed... somebody to take care of him. You know what I mean?"

"I do. Milk in the second cup too, please. Dreaming about him doesn't bother you? It's quite normal, if you've only met him once, your subconscious is trying to get to know him a little better, you might say, in the dreams. But don't mistake the dreams for the truth, Noah."

Puck obliged, pouring the milk. "That makes sense. I don't think the dreams about my daughter are the truth, either. But it's nice to see... the possible her, who she _could_ be. As for the boy... well, I don't think I'll ever see him again, so it doesn't matter much." He half-shrugged, leaning back on the counter and sighing.

Tess studied him for a moment. "It's different, Puck. If the dreams about your daughter are good, then maybe those are ways of loving her that you might remember in the future."

"I sure hope so," he said fervently. "I want to be the best Papa I can be."

She stepped close to him, and ran a fond hand over the softness of his mohawk, limp with the late hour. "You will be, Noah. Here," she said, pouring the hot water over the tea leaves. "This needs to steep for a little. Come here, honey." She used the word deliberately.

Puck's eyes suddenly flew open, his hands splayed on the bar. "Oh, f- uh." He turned panicked eyes to Tess. "I didn't call Adam last night. I _promised_ I would, every night."

Tess cupped a hand behind his head, and pulled him close. She gently kissed his forehead. "Go and get your phone, Noah, and you come _right_ back here before you call, understand me?"

He trotted obediently down the hall and returned in half a minute with his phone, and a shirt, which he pulled on over his head. "Okay."

Tess put a glass of water in his hand. "At least half of that, then go ahead and place the call."

He swallowed the water quickly, then sank onto a stool as he dialed the number, holding the phone tentatively by his face. She could tell by his expression that he'd gotten through. "Hi," he said shyly. "I'm just calling to say..." His eyes flickered to Tess, and he turned away slightly before lowering his voice. "I love you."

Tess very firmly set the tea service in front of him a moment later, nodding at him to pour.

Puck picked up the teapot in one hand while holding the phone with the other, leaning in to add tea to both cups. "I'm glad Letterman went well," he said. "Sorry I missed it. I'm visiting... a friend, in Iowa. Made good time today, but I've still got a few more hours to go tomorrow. I should make it to Ohio by afternoon." He laughed at something the other man said. "Yeah - I'm the Big O."

Tess blinked. _Letterman - Adam - oh for mercy's sake, _she thought. Puck certainly didn't seem to do things halfway. She'd caught the show on her TIVO as she'd settled down into bed for the night. _Well. _ She hadn't heard anything bad of the young musician.

"Uh." Puck glanced at Tess, a question in his eyes. "I'm at a club. Tessera." His face cleared and went surprised as he listened. "You do? The owner - she's my friend." He smiled at Tess as he said it. "Yeah. It's awesome."

Tess looked fondly at him, reaching out to tug the sweatshirt sleeve down over his wrist, where it had ridden up as he poured tea. He gave her an appreciative smile and touched her hand with his, letting her stroke the skin on his palm. "Sure." He held out the phone to her. "He'd love to say hello."

She kissed his forehead again, and accepted the phone. "This is Tess. I'm pleased to be introduced," she said silkily, letting just a little doubt creep into her tone. "Noah speaks quite highly of you, young man."

"Forgive me for being a little flustered," he said, excitement plain in his musical voice. "You're kind of a celebrity in my circles. I didn't expect to run into you this way, but I've always wanted to visit your club."

"The sensation is mutual, Adam," she said. "Noah neglected to mention a surname when we discussed things earlier, didn't you, Noah." She gave the teenager a very direct look.

Puck ducked his head, looking both guilty and pleased with himself. "I think it didn't even cross my mind. He's just _Adam."_

"I of course appreciate the care you've taken with such a... young... sub," Tess continued, pressing a little, laying a restraining hand on Noah's arm.

"Mmmm. Yes." Adam's tone was regretful now. "I was reluctant, myself, when I learned his age. We talked a long time about it before doing anything at all. But, in the end, our mutual feelings guided the way." She could hear the love in his voice. "Noah... is exceptional, in every way. And he taught me a lot, in that one day, about - well, about everything, but especially about what it _really_ meant to be a Top."

Tess considered the young musician's words for a long minute. "Yes, Noah certainly is. I've taken quite an interest in this young man," she said, gathering Puck to her in a gentle hug. She deliberated briefly, noting that Adam gave her the time she needed to speak. "You'd be quite welcome here, Adam, either to perform, if that is your preference, or, to... play. I do occasionally give a tour of the club facilities on request."

"That would be fantastic," he said enthusiastically. "It'd have to be a time when I'm not working; none of the rest of my band or crew, er, _lean _quite the way I do. But I could very happily fly out to do a show at Tessera another time. Maybe Noah and I could drive out from Ohio."

"Either is fine, Adam. I'm occasionally in Noah's hometown to visit friends," she told him. She felt comforted by the last suggestion - that he meant to see Noah at home - know his family...

"You're so kind. I'm glad to hear Noah's in good hands before he heads home to his family. Could I say good night to him before I head off, here?"

"Of course, Adam. It's been nice to speak with you. I would," she suggested, "like to make sure this young man is in bed and asleep before too much longer."

"I would, too," he said, the edge in his voice hinting at what he thought about Puck being awake so late. "Actually, he could probably use a more... severe reminder about his promise. He needs to get more sleep. And he said he would call me _before_ he went to bed." He sounded thoughtful. "You think you could help me out with that?"

"Well. We did have a long chat, Adam, and he was nodding off when I hustled him into bed. And I had something like that in mind myself, I should be glad to stand as a proxy if that's what you wish."

"That's exactly what I was thinking. I'm glad you're there, and it sounds like he trusts you. It's just what he needs." Adam sounded a little relieved. "Thanks, again."

She spoke reassuringly to the musician for a moment, then handed the phone back to Puck, and he accepted it with anticipation. "Hey," he said. Then his face changed to surprise, and then to embarrassed guilt. "Uh... I just got up, and thought I'd take a look around... No! I didn't... I mean, I wouldn't... " He closed his eyes, running a hand over his head. "No, Adam. Sorry. I... I won't."

Tess pressed in close to the boy, a hand resting firmly in the small of his back, letting the suggestion ride. She raised an eyebrow and tapped the teacup, which stood mostly full.

He nodded understanding. Then, in reaction to something Adam said, his gaze shot back to Tess', and he looked - well, terrified didn't begin to cover it. "Uh," he said.

Really, it was one of her favorite expressions to see on a sub, especially one who didn't always quite think things through frequently.

He swallowed audibly, and nodded, not taking his eyes away from hers. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders drooping, and he hung his head. "Yes, Adam," he said, and disconnected the call. He took the cup of tea and sipped it without enthusiasm, glancing up at Tess from time to time.

"Come with me young man - no, the china will wait until morning," she said once he'd finished. She wrapped a firm hand around his upper arm, and marched him straight back to the bedroom. "Now, you were quite sleepy earlier, so you didn't get the lecture - here it is now. If you're out of bed, you're coming straight to me. You do not go exploring on your own. And, young man," she said, looking sternly at him as she seated herself on the side of the bed, "You keep your promises. I'm going to give you a spanking, Noah. You know what to do."

"I - yes ma'am." He took his cue from her expectant gaze on her lap and crawled onto the bed, folding himself over her velvet-clad legs with reluctant obedience.

"Good boy," she praised. "Lift up," came the next order. "I know you've been paddled, I will not spank you without being able to see what I'm doing."

He did, raising up on his hands and knees in order to give her access to his shorts, which she quickly stripped off, leaving his bottom bare.

Tess assessed the bruised surface, and nodded to herself, patting the flinching surface briefly before she brought down the flurry of rapid and sharp swats, covering Noah's backside thoroughly. He squirmed and complained loudly for a few brief moments before dissolving into clearly much-needed tears.

She let him hang over her lap for a few moments, letting the sobs dwindle, and smoothed a hand over his soft hair before replacing his shorts. She reached to the covers, drawing them back. "Now, young man, BED."

He didn't say one more word; he just clambered in under the sheet and let his head connect with the pillow, sighing quietly. His eyes were closed within five seconds, and his breathing starting to even out within the next five.

Tess pulled the light blanket up over him. "Sleep well, Noah. If you're awake in the morning, you come and fetch me, my door is open." She let her hand linger on his shoulder.

"Yes, Lady Tess," he said groggily.

Tess leaned in, pressing a final, firm kiss to the boy's forehead, waiting just a few moments until he was asleep, then headed back to her own warm bed.

* * *

><p>The dream was clearly inspired by the tour of the club the night before, but this time Puck was the one hanging on the St. Andrews cross. He felt the strain in his neck as the flogger hit his back again and again, not with overwhelming force, but lazily, rhythmically, with easy strokes. He could see in the mirror that it was Adam wielding the tool, his wrist rotating as he smiled at Puck over his shoulder.<p>

"Had enough?" he said, his musical voice as clear and real as though Adam had actually been there.

_Never,_ he thought, closing his eyes and leaning his head on the rough painted wood. When he opened them again, it was Finn in the mirror, and his face was as stern as Puck had ever seen it. Behind him, Kurt watched, impassive, withdrawn, and entirely alone.

"Don't think I won't give it to you," he said, his voice almost a growl, and Puck rolled his head over, his body twisting on the cross, feeling the strain of the suspension from his wrists. _Yes,_ he thought desperately, _yes, please, that's what I need -_

When he woke, his cheeks were dry, but he felt the anguish of his dream echoing inside him, the memory fresh for a few minutes before it retreated to the back of his mind. It was already mid-morning. He'd apparently slept much longer than he usually did, no doubt in part due to his 3 am wake-up call. By the time he was dressed and packed, he felt largely normal again.

He found Lady Tess seated on a comfortable leather chair with wide armrests, her book held in one hand, glasses perched on her nose. As he entered, she peered at him, smiling, and took the glasses off. "Good morning, Noah."

"Hey," he said, smiling. "I can't believe I slept this long. I'm usually up a little after dawn. Did you already eat? I could make us some omelettes."

"I'm glad you rested. And you're not lifting a finger, darling."

They had a quick breakfast brought up from the kitchen, after which Lady Tess folded her napkin neatly on top of her plate.

"The club is closed on Mondays," she said quietly. "I thought perhaps you might like to see the other floors?"

The dream came back to him in a shock of memory, and he reeled a little before answering, "Yeah, absolutely. That'd be great."

"The same rules apply," she said drily, "as last night. Even when we're closed, security is monitoring hallways on video, and Alec Williams is, like James, a heavy Top, so you'd find yourself on the receiving end of a cane, and I don't imagine it would be anything less than traumatic. Alec is the head of security here, Noah."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and took her offered hand, glad for her guidance.

She drew him gently along, down to the lower level of the club, pointing out the small conference rooms at either end, and the private rooms where overnight guests stayed, though not Sunday or Monday nights.

"You've seen the first floor - I imagine you might like dancing, the next time you're here, we've always got some band or the other in. The third floor is just like the basement - we can walk through it if you like, though I think you'll be more interested in the second floor. On Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights these rooms on the ground floor and the third floor are often full up. You'd want to let me know if you're coming, so I might reserve some space for you."

He blinked, realizing that Tessera was less than a half-day's drive from Lima. He might actually be able to come back again before too long. "Maybe - maybe I could," he said. _Maybe somebody could come back with me._

"Sweetheart, you are always welcome here. Until you're a little older, it will have to be as my personal guest, in my quarters or in the guest quarters in the private wing, but there will always, always be space for you here, Noah."

The thought was incredibly comforting. This amazing building was one thing, and Puck was eager to explore every nook and cranny - but the woman who led him on her arm was even more astounding, and felt surprisingly familiar after knowing her for such a short time. _Maybe not so surprising,_ he thought, watching her attentively. _She's as much a part of me now as Adam is._

"Come along, now," she smiled, sensing that he was thinking, and feeling. "Third floor? or Second floor? or both?"

"Both, please," he said.

"Both it is. Stairwells in both wings are in the same places, sweetheart. And don't you dare suggest racing me over four flights of stairs." Her eyes sparkled, teasing him just a little.

He shook his head, grinning back. "Oh - trust me, I'm not going _anywhere_ without you. This place is awesome, but I can already tell there's stuff I'm not ready to see."

"That's my good boy. Now, the ground floor and the third floor, they're more private, but since were're closed today, you're fine. If you've got reason to be on either floor- in the conference rooms, just be respectful. It's the second floor that you are absolutely NOT to set foot upon without adult accompaniment. Kurt doesn't count yet, but Adam might - if he's willing to have a wee conversation with me first."

"Got it," he said, peering up the stairwell as they climbed. "And Adam is definitely an adult." It made him squirm and his breath come a little faster to imagine being in this establishment with _Adam._ There were too many possibilities for his brain to entertain at once.

They cruised down the hallway of the third floor, which looked exactly like the ground - basement - floor had. "This is a private club," she reminded closely. "There will be no one on the second floor who has not had a personal interview with me. Neither sub nor dom, top nor brat, are allowed to participate in the activities on this floor unless they have been thoroughly vetted. Do you understand?" She arched an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. There was enough of the club that he'd already seen that he knew the second floor rooms must be _way _cooler than anything he could imagine - but he could wait to see them. "Honestly, Adam and I barely made it out of his hotel room this weekend. I don't think we're gonna need anything more than a little quiet space when we're together, for now."

"Quiet space we have plenty of. Ready? I expect questions out of you on this floor," she suggested, opening the stairwell door to the second floor. "Now then. We're going to skip around a little, Noah. If you're feeling overwhelmed, I expect to know about it, and the rest can wait, all right? I think this first room will be a little familiar." She opened the door on a room that had several hardbacked chairs, and benches, and... the walls were... covered, with photos of implements, larger than life, and he could only imagine what was in the cupboards spaced at regular intervals along the wall.

"Perhaps as you're still in school, this room might not interest you as much, but it's set up as an old fashioned schoolroom," she said, letting him look around. "Note the platforms in the corners, the ferule on the desk, the canes hanging on the walls?"

"I'm glad I didn't go to school back then," he said with feeling. "Dude. It's bad enough _now,_ without all this corporal punishment stuff." He paused, thinking. "Though I guess it _would_ probably help me focus better..."

Puck gulped a little as he peeked into the next room and saw a doctor's office. He could definitely see Dr. Howell in this one, complete with scrubs and mask and latex gloves... _okay, this is not helping._ He put a firm collar-hold on his imagination and went on.

He was a little puzzled by the room with the large flagstone fireplace. Surgical trays of sterlized equipment were laid out, enclosed in plastic autoclave bags, beside two comfortable-looking leather lounge chairs with reclining backs. "What's this one for?"

"It's a little more intense, Noah. Come here," she suggested, and opened a drawer next to the lounge chair. It was filled with what looked like... needles... of various shapes and sizes, and he glanced at her curiously. "Piercing," she explained. "The needles are used to pierce the skin, in various patterns, or intensities - the wider gauge needles, more intense, of course."

Puck's heartbeat stuttered and picked back up, double time, as a vivid image of the dark-haired boy from the club appeared in his mind - shirtless, back arched, as Puck slowly inserted - he gasped. "Wow." He shook his head to clear it. "I'm almost afraid to ask about the fireplace."

"Branding," she said succinctly. "Not done often, and always with myself present."

"... Oh," he said, with a faint tremor. "Okay. I think I'll pass on that one."

She smiled gently at him. "Understandable. Not many people carry brands. Noah, would you perhaps like to try anything - in any of the rooms we've seen? There's a number of other rooms, but the only one we haven't seen thus far that I would be willing to offer would be the... military room. I'd be willing to demonstrate any of that for you, if you're curious."

Puck's mind wound through all the images it had absorbed in the past twenty-four hours like an old-fashioned filmstrip, and by the end, he was almost dizzy with the possibilities. "I - there's a lot I'd like to try," he said. "I won't lie, though, and say I'm not a little intimidated by these rooms. I mean, jeez." He shuffled nervously along the wall. "I'm kind of surprised that there's a lot of stuff I don't know about yet. And I figured I was pretty knowledgeable."

She pulled him close, an arm around his waist, and kissed his temple gently. "It is all entirely your choice, Noah. In these rooms, I am in charge - but you are the person who defines what is or is not permissible for your own self."

"I guess that makes sense." He let himself relax against her shoulder for just a moment. "It's like this whole week away has been kind of... a wake-up, I guess. I've learned so much, about myself, about who I am and what I need, and I'm going back with all this new stuff. I have to make it fit into my old life." He sighed. "I hope it's not too much for my friends and family. I'm not that different. Am I?"

She shook her head fondly. "That's true not just in these rooms, my boy. It's true outside of these walls, and in every aspect of your life, as well. People grow, Noah. It's not always slow and comfortable. And in this, at least, I am here for you, if you need to talk, or to ask questions. You're going back with love and understanding in your heart. I don't think that the people who love you will begrudge you a little growing and changing - but I want you to realize that everyone recognizes things in their own time. Some of them might understand right away, and others might understand further down the road. The important thing is _you _- that you're comfortable with where you are, inside of your own skin, within your own home."

Her grey eyes were warm, and her arm was firm and steady around him, and when he quieted his breath for a moment, he imagined he could hear her heartbeat, slow and strong.

* * *

><p>"The tank is full, my tires are inflated, and I've got a sandwich that doesn't suck." He grinned at her from the cab of his truck. "And a letter of introduction from James to the chef of Charlie Trotter's. I'm totally set. This was awesome, Tess. Thank you - for everything."<p>

"Now, you're going to call me, Noah. I expect to hear about all the little things you've told me about, while you were here, please. I'm certain you won't leave me to worry about you, hmm?"

"No way," he said. "I already said I'd call Adam every night. I'll be sure to give you a call in a few days and let you know how things are." He gazed toward the sun, which was already midway toward noon. "It's been a hell of a week. When I left Lima, I didn't think I could stay there any longer, but... I think I'm ready to face what's waiting for me there, now."

"That's my good boy," she said, her voice warm, and then she tiptoed up to kiss his cheek through the window, being careful not to brush the velvet of her dress against the door. "Now you'll be careful, yes, and at least _try_ to behave?"

He bit his lip. "You know, I _always_ try."

"Then try and tip the odds towards success, if you please. All my love is with you, dear heart."

He clasped her hand one more time through the open window before she let him go. He turned the key in the ignition, then stuck his head out with an impish grin. "I'll send you dessert for Christmas. You won't believe how fucking awesome a fruitcake can be."

Tess shook her head, and popped the door of the truck open, released his seat belt, and pulled him out, no break in the smooth, almost practiced motion. He made a feeble protest as she freed the trigger snap of her quirt, doubled him forward, and brought the leather down three times, quick and sharp.

"Mind your language," she said. "Now get on with you, Noah. It's not getting any earlier, and you'll be on the road after dark as it is, boy."

He looked a little shaken, but much calmer. "Yes, ma'am."

She pressed another kiss in, this time on his forehead, thinking a blessing for the boy as she did so. She heard the transmission shift into gear, and stepped back, watching older pickup pull cleanly out of the parking lot. As the shimmer of the tail lights faded, she let the sigh go finally. The sun was bright overhead, a clear day, and she at least wouldn't have to worry about the boy travelling through foul weather. The long driveway glimmered in the heat of the noon sun, despite the chill of the air that had her shivering slightly.

Stephen was waiting for her at the door, as she padded quietly towards the building, looking at the deep red brickwork and ornamentation with as much pleasure as she had the first time she saw the then decrepit building. He held out a warm woolen wrap, settling it around her shoulders and she smiled at her majordomo.

"Another boy winging off into dangers untold and hardships unnumbered?"

Tess glanced at him. "Something like that. He'll call, and with a little grace, he'll dance on through."

* * *

><p><em>She needs wide open spaces<br>__Room to make her big mistakes  
><em>_She needs new faces  
><em>_She knows the high stakes  
><em>_She traveled this road as a child  
><em>_Wide eyed and grinning, she never tired  
><em>_But now she won't be coming back with the rest  
><em>_If these are life's lessons, she'll take this test_

_- Dixie Chicks, "Wide Open Spaces"_


	12. Chapter 12

_I think we put all these expectations on relationships and create this idea of, oh, this is how it's supposed to be, because this is what all these other relationships that I see, that's how they are. I think it's really hard but really necessary to be like, but what are my needs? And what are your needs? And that's our relationship. And that's the hardest thing, because no one tells you how to do that._

_- Adam Lambert, OUT Magazine, November 2009_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER TWELVE<p>

Puck took I-80 through Chicago on his way back from Iowa, not because it was all that much shorter than going through Indianapolis, but because he wasn't going to miss having dinner at Charlie Trotter's. James had given him a note to pass to the head chef, and he ended up with a full tour of the kitchen, along with samples of dozens of dishes. Once they realized he knew what he was talking about, the sous chefs stopped trying to patronize the teenager and instead engaged him in a fascinating conversation about which chef school was the best, working in the top restaurants in various cities, and the best routes for him to consider when he was done with school. "Don't even think about dropping out of high school to cook," they warned. "You've got to finish that first. Then look us up." Puck promised them he would.

He'd made the turnoff onto highway 30, passing through Fort Wayne, about an hour and a half away from Lima, when he started to feel anxious. The Puck who'd left Lima over a week before was not the same as the Puck who was returning. It was almost as though he was having a conversation with himself. _New Puck, don't forget to call Adam. Old Puck, make an appointment to talk to Miss Pillsbury about your missed schoolwork. _The two had things in common, but there were plenty of things for Old Puck to learn from New Puck.

This concept about being his own Big O, for example. He'd always thought it meant he had to do things alone, to become independent. But New Puck saw it differently now. _I can get some help breaking away those rough edges,_ he thought. _My family, they can help me turn over and get moving - and then we can roll together. Being my own person doesn't have to mean being alone. _It was the most freeing thought.

The closer he got to Lima, though, the more he had to consider the very practical question about where he was going to stay. Finn's place was clearly not an option. His Ma's house had quickly passed into the possession of the bank that owned the mortgage, and he figured he'd be lucky to ever see any money from that considering how far behind she'd been on payments. He could stay at Meemee's postage-stamp apartment for a few days, but he knew Meemee well enough to know that wouldn't be a long-term solution for either of them. That left Kurt's - but the thought of confronting everyone at once, Burt and Kurt and Carole and Sarah and _everybody,_ was almost more than even New Puck could handle. He wondered if he could get away with sleeping on the mattress in their attic room at school for a few weeks.

Passing through Delphos, turning off the highway onto route 309 toward Elida, gave him the strangest jolt of melancholy. He pulled off to get gas, and, even though it was only early evening, he called Adam.

"Noah?" His voice was surprised, distracted. Puck could hear smatterings of noise and music in the background. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," he said, suddenly hesitant. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bother -"

"Don't be," Adam said, moving into a quieter room, and upon the dampening of noise his voice grew quiet and personal. Puck could hear his smile, and he glanced for the hundred-and-first time at the picture on the CD cover. He'd have to print out a better one to stick in his truck.

"I'm almost back to Lima," he said to the picture, and felt a strange shock as Adam's voice came through the phone while he was looking at his face. It was almost too intimate.

"Your long journey's nearly at an end." He could have been whispering into Puck's ear. Puck shivered and closed his eyes, imagining Adam's hair brushing his cheek. "Full circle, back to the midwest. Did I tell you I was born in Indiana?"

"No." Puck opened his eyes again and gazed across the flat, featureless landscape of western Ohio, the strips of highway dividing the landscape into bland and blander. It was representative of all the things he hated about living in Lima - but he was oddly glad to be here. It was comforting.

"I know it seems like I'm so used to this traveling lifestyle, but it's still pretty new to me. We moved to California when I was a little kid, and I've been there since. Even so, I guess I'm still hopelessly midwestern."

Puck snorted. "Whatever, man. Glamorous gay rock star? Nothing midwestern about that."

Adam chuckled. "You know, that's still a little hard to believe. _Rock star._ Me. Two years ago I was still trying out for every part I could find, just to keep my equity current, living pretty much from paycheck to paycheck, and trying desperately to find someone to produce my CD. Now look at me. Idol changed me."

"I don't believe that," Puck said, stretching his legs across the passenger side seat. He leaned his head back on the window. "You're the same. It's just your circumstance. Like, the way the world sees you is different. You've always been a rock star, inside."

"God, Noah." Adam's voice dropped suddenly, husky with emotion. "Where did you come from?"

Puck was shocked into silence by the question.

Adam sighed. "I don't think I've _really_ made you understand what this weekend has meant for me. For a long time now, I've been... well, lonely. Me and Drake - we tried to make it work, but he didn't get some things about me that I guess I didn't even know I needed. Until you."

Puck had to swallow twice before he could get around the lump in his throat. "Me?" he finally got out.

"You. You're extraordinary. The kind of extraordinary that doesn't need anybody else to make them that way. I think you're so sure you need everybody that you've forgotten what an amazing person you are, all by yourself."

"You make me feel like that," Puck said. "When I was with Finn, it was... _necessary, _like we couldn't be any other way. With Kurt, there's this give and take, like we balance each other, and it's so _hot..._ but with you - " He paused to control his voice, his face, and to take a deep breath. "You make me feel like I can be so much more than I am."

"You're a rock star, too, Noah," said Adam, with calm surety. "Inside. You can take that and become anybody you want to be. I know you have dreams of your own - but there are so many more things, things you haven't even dreamt yet." He laughed quietly. "It seems like I never run out of new things to discover, and I'm thirteen years older than you are."

"Thirteen years." Puck shook his head. "We played this game, me and Finn and Kurt and Sarah - my sister. We imagined our lives in one year, and three years, and ten. That was less than a month ago. Well, already my life's completely different than I imagined, even a year away." He felt his lips turn up in a smile. "There was no way - no _fucking_ way - I could have imagined _you."_

"You're not the only one," Adam said. He sighed. "I'm sorry, honey, but I've got to get going. We'll be in New York for a few more days, and then I'm heading home."

_Home._ The concept was even more confusing than it had been a week ago, when he'd gone looking for home in Santa Fe. "D'you think home could be a feeling, instead of a place?" he asked.

"Definitely," Adam said. "How does it feel to you, to be home?"

Puck thought about it. Finn had felt like _home,_ to him. What had he felt? "Familiar," he said. "I could be at home in a new place, if it felt like I belonged."

"Well, then, all you have to do is find that place inside yourself, and you'll be at home, wherever you are. Maybe if you chip off some of those corners, you can start rolling on your own."

"Not on my own," Puck said, and smiled. "Never on my own."

Adam's own smile was brilliant, even over the phone. "No, honey. Never on your own. Call me later to say goodnight."

"Yes, Adam," he said.

* * *

><p>The drive was easier, after that, just the six or so miles from Elida into town. Puck took a few minutes to drive through downtown, passing Dr. Howell's storefront just to peek through the door - it was dark; maybe they were closed for the holiday? - and then he headed east on McKibben, then north on Jackson, the familiar route leading him toward Hummel Tires and Lube.<p>

He parked, but hesitated outside the front door. Burt was right there, standing behind the oil-stained counter with the blotter from 2007, helping a customer. He looked exactly the same as he had a week ago: same old ball cap, same smile, same eyes. Puck wondered if _he_ looked the same, if maybe the vast, life-changing things that had happened to him in the last few days might just not be the kind of things anybody could see. Maybe Burt had things like that, too.

And then, whether by chance or because of some reason Puck would never know, Burt looked right up through the glass and saw him standing there in the doorway. His smile faltered and disappeared, and he took a stunned step back. He watched the customer Burt was helping ask him if he was okay, and he saw Burt ask him to wait a minute. Puck steeled himself and stepped through the door.

Burt looked like he had a lot of things to say, but none of them were forthcoming as he came around to the front of of the counter, his eyes arresting, forbidding Puck to look away.

He was close now, standing right in front of him. He put his hands on Puck's shoulders, looking him over, as though he was inspecting him for scars. He wanted to tell Burt, _I'm new, there's this part of me you haven't met before, and he's amazing. _But he could only gaze back at him and tell Burt with his eyes how happy he was to be there.

Burt's own eyes softened, becoming shiny. His fingers tightened on Puck's sleeves, and he gave him a quick, decisive nod. Then, faster than Puck could object - not that he _would_ - Burt had him, tight in his strong arms, holding him close enough that Puck could hear his pulse hammering in his neck.

"Burt," Puck said, and that was all he could say.

Burt took a breath, then paused before whispering, "Thanks for coming home."

* * *

><p><em>I just want to be living as I'm dying<br>__Just like everybody here  
><em>_Just want to know my little flicker of time is worthwhile  
><em>_And I don't know where I'm driving to  
><em>_But I know I'm getting old  
><em>_And there's a blessing in every moment, every mile_

_Thin white terry, bars of soap and a couple little plastic cups  
><em>_Old Gideon's Bible's in the nightstand drawer saying, "Go on, open up"  
><em>_Well, I'll kneel down on the carpet here  
><em>_Though I never was sure of God  
><em>_But tonight I'll give Him the benefit of the doubt_

_I switch off the lights and imagine that waitress outlined in the bed  
><em>_Her hair falling all around me  
><em>_I smile and shake my head  
><em>_Well, we all write our own endings  
><em>_And we all have our own scars  
><em>_But tonight I think I see what it's all about_

_Because I've come home  
><em>_I've come home_

_- Vienna Teng_

_THE END_


End file.
